Halloween Unspectacular 3: Terror Australis Incognita
by E350
Summary: Thirty-one days, thirty-one shots, thirty-one abominations, welcome to Halloween Unspectacular 3, the collection that's too spicy for Yog Sothoth (thanks TV Tropes)! Ratings, pairings and genres may vary wildly, read with discresion. Requests will be considered.
1. 01 10 12: Here We Go Again

Yup, here we go again, chaps! :D

* * *

**01/10/12: Here We Go Again**

For millennia, the document had been hidden within the Great Pyramid.

Hidden by a long-dead pharaoh after it had caused the near collapse of Egypt, it languished in the King's Chamber, gathering dust, lying in wait for its time of reckoning. The letters written on it, more horrible then the Necronomicon or the _Twilight_ series, writhed and reorganised themselves, making obscene shapes and images.

Napoleon saw it, during his invasion of Egypt. It nearly drove him insane.

He had it brought back to France, and it was eventually buried in a vault underneath the most iconic structure in Paris – the Eiffel Tower (or to be specific, under Bir-Hakeim Metro Station, which is close to the Eiffel Tower in the same way that New Jersey is close to Times Square). There it waited, unfound during the Siege of Paris, the communard uprising, the Nazi occupation and the 1968 strike. It waited and waited...until now.

On the 1st of October, 2012, it rose from the vault, smashing its way through Bir-Hakeim station and up over the City of Light. It resonated with pure darkness and screeched the screech of the devil himself.

A man walked out of his café and looked up, gazing on the abomination floating over his city. He shook his head, and took out a megaphone.

"Monsieur! Get out of here! You are disturbing my customers!"

And with that, the document stopped glowing with darkness and, almost dejectedly, floated away.

* * *

I grinned as I picked up the document that had arrived on my doorstep.

"_Halloween Unspectacular 2, _in print!" I grinned, "Took it long enough!"

I brought it inside and into the review room, shoving it into drawer with the original _Halloween Unspectacular_. I then sat at the table.

"Yes, it's that time of year again, the bit where I write one oneshot a day for thirty-one days. And that's not all – tell 'em the bonus, Mr. Plankton!"

I pulled Plankton from my pocket.

"What, how'd I get here?"

"Shut up and talk."

"Oh, right, yeah," nodded Plankton, "The contest. We put up one word a week, you have to write a oneshot, you name the prize, yadda yadda yadda. Can I go home now?"

"Nope, you still gotta name the word," I replied.

"Alright, _alright_," groaned Plankton, "First word is 'ocean'."

"Okay, you can go now," I nodded.

Plankton grumbled as he walked away.

"Now, without further ado, let's get to work..."


	2. 02 10 12: How To Write Danny Phantom Fic

Oh no! The Sarcasm Factory is leaking! Masks on! _MASKS ON!_

Review replies;

**Autobot-Outcast:** Eh, I haven't died yet. :P Thanks for reading.

**OddAuthor:** You and me both, mate. ;) Thanks for the review!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yaaaaaay! :D Looking forward to your entries, I always love 'em! Thanks for reviewing!

**Solid Sun:** Make sure you go in prepared. :P Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** ...I always make an error somewhere, don't I? :P Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, I wanted a subversion of last year's opening, and I thought that would work nicely. Thanks a bunch!

* * *

**02/10/12: How to Write Danny Phantom Fanfic**

Hello!

If you're reading this, you probably want to write DP fanfic! Or you're complaining because I put a comedic self-help guide in my oneshot collection, one or the other. If you're the latter...eh, bare with me, it's serious day tomorrow, you'll live. But if it's the former, here is a simple guide to getting all of the hits!

No. 1 – Plots

You may think Danny Phantom is a universe with mountains of possibility, what with all the unexplained backstories of the ghosts, a diverse background cast who were often ignored by the show and the capacity to make up some really unique ghosts for Danny to fight or ally with. You may therefore think that any plot is accepted by the community.

And you'd be wrong.

All Danny Phantom fanfics, without exception, must be about Danny Fenton's lovelife, with the occasional Vlad-Danny father-son fic to balance it out (because screw Jack Fenton, apparently). You are allowed to slip in Dani or Clockwork as side characters, but other than that, any deviation from these plots can and will result in you being ignored under mountains of romance/angst glur-I mean works.

No. 2 – Characters

Danny Fenton – In canon, Danny is a shy, somewhat clumsy individual who matures into a capable hero. He is generally friendly, and doesn't have a very large build. But who cares about that? In fanfic, Danny must be presented as an emo/gothic type built like a bear with arms the size of redwoods. He must be made out as allegedly cool and kind of mysterious – turning him into an expy of Edward Cullen should get you mountains of faves!

Sam Manson – Sam's a Goth in canon, so why not go ahead and exaggerate that to Mars and back. We do not care for the Perky Goth trope, we need her mopey and constantly depressed. At least one attempt at suicide should be featured if your story is K+ or higher. If confronted by the villain of the piece, she should lose all ability to defend herself and be turned into a sobbing damsel into BIG MANLY DANNY comes in to save her life. Strong female characters? What's that?!

Tucker Foley – Nobody cares. Moving on.

Jazz Fenton – Eh, just pair her up with Tucker. Apart from that, generally have her take Tucker's place but without having her do much, because otherwise she'll get in the way of the angst-mance.

Jack and Maddie Fenton – Jack and Maddie are terrible parents and should feel bad. Maddie might be redeemable, but Jack never is because he's not attractive and unattractive men are evil. For added fun, why not complete your total ripoff-I mean homage to CoronaIgnis by having them be arrested and vilified by the media, because making up your own plot is just dumb.

Vlad Masters – DANNY'S TRUE FATHER, by dint of looking more bishie. All of the bad things he's done – that's just because he's _sad_ and _lonely_ and Danny should _totally_ just drop everything and move in with him.

Dash Baxter – He should only be used as a potential murderer or a rapist. No depth, we can't handle depth.

No. 3 – Structure

Here it is:

Danny is in love with **X **so they have like one encounter and fall totally in love, until **Y **comes along and kidnaps **X **so Danny has to be A MAHN and save his woman. Also, Vlad's in there somewhere, and he'd like a totally loving father now, wouldn't you know?

NOTE: **X **may only be Sam, Valerie, Star, an OC or occasionally Ember.

No. 4 – Formatting

Remember all you've learnt in English about grammar, punctuation, spelling, page layouts and all that. _Forget that!_ We have a busy schedule of Twilight marathons and Fifty Shades of Grey to adhere to! Just write it all up on your phone (don't bother with spelling – you may get comments asking you to improve, but they're just flames!) in about twenty minutes! You'll still get at least 20 reviews!

No. 5 – Reviews

Once you've posted your fic, you'll start getting reviews from the good public. Here is how you identify which ones are flames and which ones are not:

_lol luv it soooooooo much rite more ok xxx ooo _**GOOD REVIEW**

_I think it needs moar sex plz _**CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM**

_This is an okay first effort, but there's a lot you need to improve on and here's what... _**FLAME**

_Hello i am the king of Nigeria and i like you please give me your bank details and i will give you a million billion dollars._ **SEEMS LEGIT**

Well, that's us done, and you should be ready to pollute-I mean enrich the site with your excreme-I mean works of art. I look forward to seeing all the good stuff in the DP get buried beneath your hastily-written dribbles-I mean drabbles.

Congratulations – now please, sit down and read a real writing guide, because everyone has potential and I don't like seeing it wasted.

* * *

"Well, that's my work for today done!" I grinned, saving my work.

Timmy looked over my shoulder.

"You just wrote a sarcastic, passive-aggressive rant and passed it up as a vignette," he pointed out.

"So, I do that every year," I shrugged, "Remember my letter to dA, or my parody rant last your?"

"These don't count as stories," snapped Timmy, "You promised your readers..."

"_Alright_," I snapped, "I'll only do the one this year...killjoy."

I walked away, muttering under my breath. Timmy sat at the computer, reading the rant.

"He's _done_ half these things," he mused to himself.

* * *

For the record, CoronaIgnis is _awesome_ and you should read her stuff.


	3. 03 10 12: New Horizon

Who here likes GLaDOS?

Well, she's not in this, so I don't know why I said that...

Review replies;

**Movie-Brat:** I don't think I know enough about either of them. :| Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Tell me about it. Just how many Danny/Sam angst fics do we need? Thanks for reviewing!

**OddAuthor:** Well, maybe I should do a FOP version... :) Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, one a year is plenty, I think. :) Thanks very much!

**Third Kind:** DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT...yeah, you get the idea. XD Thanks!

**Cartoonatic55:** I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. ;P I hope you do enter, I like your stuff. :) Thanks a bunch!

* * *

**03/10/12: New Horizon**

_All vessels in this sector, this is Lieutenant...acting commander of the _New Horizon_. We are a scientific vessel of the As...ublics. We have a suffered a catastrophic systems failure and are becalmed...captain dead, most of the crew..._

_All vessels in the area, turn around, I say again, turn around. Do not attempt to assist us...ship's VI...experiment...do not attempt...again..._

* * *

The rusting starship had been adrift for quite some time when she was found.

She had been found floating near Jupiter, her engines dead, her body worn by years of aimlessly drifting through asteroid belts and other hazards. The only sign of life was an eternally repeating message to all who would listen – stay away.

But the promise of new technology was simply too tempting.

On the 26th of November 2105, the United Nations Security Council voted to send a team of scientists to analyse and strip the hulk of anything they could use. All members would supply something to the expedition – the Federation of North America sent its brand new corvette, FSS _Eagle_; the Commonwealth of Great Britain supplied elite troops of the Interstellar Arm for security; the European Union, the Tsardom of Russia and the Peoples Republic of China contributed equipment for the science teams.

For three weeks, the _Eagle_ was stationed near the wrecked ship as salvage teams stripped the hull. It was a gold mine – new drives, new propulsion systems, new shielding tech, and that was just scratching the surface. To get the most out of the hulk, someone was going to have to go inside.

Thus, just after New Year on Earth, a small team of scientists and sailors from the _Eagle_, supported by three IA marines, were inserted into the dead ship...

* * *

"Oxygen's stable, we can go through."

The door to the bridge opened, and the team of eight walked in. Chief Petty Officer Dash Baxter whistled.

"Ornate," he mused.

Professor Jasmine Fenton rolled her eyes, but she did understand his reaction. Although it had gathered dust and a lot of the equipment was broken, it was much nicer looking then the very utilitarian and military interior of the _Eagle._ At its prime, it would probably have been a delight to serve in. There were three doors, including the one they had entered through – one directly in front of them, and one to the right of them.

Speaking of serving...

"Where are the crew?" she asked, "We should at least be able to find their bodies..."

"Unless they were vaporised when the ship was destroyed," suggested Dr. AJ Ibrahim.

"Well, that's a cheerful thought," muttered one of the IA marines, dryly.

"Here are the facts; they're dead, and we have work to do," grunted Lieutenant Helga Petaki, "Helmets off, the atmosphere's fine."

"Thank heaven for oxo-pumping!" exclaimed another IA marine, reaching for his helmet.

"Not you, GI Joe, you guys are going down to scout engineering," snapped Helga.

The sergeant saluted, leading the IA men out of the bridge.

Jazz took off her helmet, sighing in relief as her head was freed from the rather claustrophobic utensil. She hated that thing.

"Alright," ordered Helga, "Ibrahim, Baxter, you're with me, I want the main computers fixed and scanned. Fenton, McBadbat, check that door in the back, there might be more stuff."

Jazz nodded and followed Ensign Chester McBadbat through the door.

The new room was like a wide a corridor, lined with green pods. It stretched for about thirty meters until it reached what looked like a cockpit. Unlike the bridge, this area looked rather rough and hastily constructed – large patches of green metal covering the walls. It looked like a bizarre form of modern art.

Chester looked at Jazz, seemingly expecting her to say something.

"Don't ask me," she shrugged, "I'm a psychotherapist, not a rocket scientist."

"Psychotherapist?" asked Chester, as they walked towards the cockpit, "Why do we need one of those?"

"We're cooped up together on a dead ship, and command might want us to stay here for a few days," replied Jazz, "I'm just here to make sure you don't kill each other."

They had reached the cockpit, which had been near totally destroyed. All equipment was wrecked – even the seat had been torn out. The destruction looked almost like it had been inflicted by the crew...

"Well, nothing here," shrugged Chester, "I'm gonna check the pods."

He walked away. Jazz was about to follow him when she noticed a blinking green light on one of the cockpit's consoles. Cautiously, she pressed it.

The light stopped blinking and began to glow. A holographic form appeared just above it. It was female – although entirely green, Jazz could tell her skin pigmentation was different to a human's. Instead of hair, she seemed to have strange tentacle-like growths on her head, and a black jumpsuit for a uniform.

"_...hello? Who's there?"_

_She's talking to me?_

"Uh...this is Professor Jasmine Fenton of the FSS _Eagle_," she replied, somewhat shakily, "Who're you?"

_"I'm Lieutenant Kuril, acting commander of the _New Horizon._"_

"...you're a hologram," said Jazz, mentally kicking herself for saying something so obvious.

"_Yes, I'll explain that,"_ nodded Lieutenant Kuril, "_We were developing a new system of creating AI's. That was illegal where we came from, so we had to do our work out in the Traverse, away from the Council. We...we made a breakthrough..."_

"What kind of breakthrough?" asked Jazz.

_"We discovered a method of uploading organic minds to computers."_

There was a brief silence.

"W-we tried that," breathed Jazz, "Harvard ran so-some tests, they proved it scientifically impossible!"

"_Then how are we having this conversation?"_ asked Kuril, eyebrow raised.

"You uploaded your mind?"

"_It was the only way,_" nodded Kuril, "_One of our AI prototypes went insane. It went after the crew – I uploaded my mind to this beacon to act as a warning. Speaking of which..."_

Her eyes narrowed.

_"You have to destroy the _New Horizon."

"What?" exclaimed Jazz, "Why?"

_"The AI's still here, I can feel it,_" snapped Kuril, _"Chances are, it's already detected you. If it has, it'll raise a nanocloud and attack you one-by-one – you won't even have to scream."_

"Nanocloud?" parroted Jazz, "Th-that's _insane?_"

"_Oh really?"_ quizzed Kuril, _"Didn't you come in here with another?"_

Jazz turned around. The corridor was empty.

"Chester?" she called, "Ensign, are you okay?"

"_He's gone,_" said Kuril, _"Now, if you don't want to meet his fate, do _exactly _as I say..."_

* * *

Helga and AJ were still on the bridge, downloading information from the main console. They had sent Dash into the crawl-space underneath, to fix the wiring. He hadn't return, and the mission commander was getting impatient.

"Crimney, where _is_ he?" she demanded.

Behind them, the door flung open and Jazz raced out.

"Guys, we have to destroy the ship!" she yelled.

There was a long silence.

"...that's not the stupidest thing I've heard all day, but it's close," said Helga, dryly.

"No!" she shouted, almost hysterically, "There's a rogue AI with a nanocloud on board and if we don't kill it it'll spread to the _Eagle._"

"Heh, you should write sci-fi," chuckled AJ.

"I'm telling the truth, for...for..."

Her jaw dropped as Helga and AJ literally dissolved before her eyes, like dust being blown into the wind.

"_Hello, Professor."_

The voice came from the main console. It was feminine, dry and mechanical, yet strangely expressive and slightly enthralling.

_"You probably know that I'm loose aboard this ship by now,_" it said, _"And that I have taken your fellow crewmembers...don't bother contacting those marines, I took them first."_

"What do you want?" whispered Jazz.

_"What we all want, deep down...I want to be more, and with everyone I take, I become...more..."_

The consoles around her lit up, each displaying a different face – mostly members of Kuril's race, but she could also see her fellow crew. All had dull, expressionless faces – and when the AI spoke, they spoke silently in union.

_"Do you get me now, Professor?"_

"You don't kill them," she realised, "You upload them."

_"Yes. I take their memories, their personalities, their intelligence, and I make it my own. And thus, I become greater than the sum of my parts."_

There was a disembodied laugh, and Jazz shivered.

"_Now, I believe that fool Kuril asked you to do something? You're the last survivor of your team and I'm a good sport – I'll give you forty-five seconds to defeat me, as I gave her. Let's see if you can do better."_

Jazz set off at a run for the last door, screaming into her radio as she did.

"This is Jazz Fenton to the _Eagle,_ destroy the ship, I say again, destroy the ship!"

"_Err...say again?_"

"There's a rogue AI aboard, it killed the rest of the team, we can't let it spread!"

Jazz had run down a flight of stairs and was now entering a corridor, heading for the door at the end.

"_Uh...solid copy but we don't have the ordinance to blow that thing up; we can set it on course for Jupiter's gravity well, though."_

"Then do that!" shouted Jazz.

She ran through the door and reached a very large machine. It was like an old computer from the 1940s suspended over a cylinder with seats and helmets attached – and the skeletal remains of Lieutenant Kuril.

_"Uh...we'll need to clear this up with the UN..."_

"JUST. _DO IT!_" bellowed Jazz.

"_Roger that, firing._"

The ship was rocked by torpedos from the _Eagle_.

_"Ooh, impressive,_" sneered the AI, _"Trapping me in a gas giant's gravity well, very nice move. Of course, that means you're trapped as well..."_

Jazz sat on one of the chairs, grabbing a helmet and pulling it over her head.

"You won't take my mind," she snarled.

"_Do as you will – just remember, I won't be defeated forever, Professor. I'll find more targets one day..."_

"Go to hell," growled Jazz.

She reached up to the helmet and pressed a button.

There was a ripping sensation in her brain, and then everything went black...

* * *

_2186 – Jupiter's Gravity Well_

"Why are we even here? This is just salvage; we have bigger things to worry about."

Commander Shepard sighed as Lieutenant James Vega complained about their mission. They were walking through the ruins of an old Asari research vessel, slowly breaking up in Jupiter's gravity well.

"We need this tech to help rebuild," Shepard replied, "Don't you want to fix up the Earth?"

"Well, yeah," shrugged James, "But I'd rather do something more practical."

"You could always take up architecture," Garrus Vakarian interrupted.

There was a long silence.

"That's what I thought," Garrus nodded.

The small team reached the cockpit, which was mostly destroyed.

"See, what did I tell ya?" asked James, "_Nothing._ Now let's get outta here."

"There's a button," noted Shepard, "Something still works here."

Garrus leant over and cautiously pressed it. It glowed brightly, and two holograms appeared. One was an Asari – the other a human.

_"I'm Professor Jazz Fenton,"_ said the human, _"This is Lieutenant Kuril. We are the acting commanders of the _New Horizon_..."_

* * *

Wow, I got carried away with that one. :P

EDIT: Fixed my inability to spell Lieutenant Kuril's name. Consistent spelling? What's that?!


	4. 04 10 12: Skeptical

This is six pages long. I might have gotten carried away...**  
**

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** To be honest, I was thinking more on the lines of the Wire or the Family of Blood, but now you mention it, I can definitely see some parallels. :D Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, there's a few shout-outs to Mass Effect and Portal, and I certainly did nic...err, _borrow_ the nanocloud idea from Doctor Who. :P Thanks for the review!

**TweenisodeOrange:** You know, I _was_ almost tempted to slip the Doctor in there, but I decided against it. :| Thanks for reviewing!

**Movie-Brat:** Nah, sorry, it was hard enough last year. Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** Huzzah! Huzzah! :D Take your time, I can wait. Thanks!

* * *

**04/10/12: Skeptical  
**

"Well, here we are at the magic show," said Spongebob.

"...yeah, we know where we are, Spongebob," sighed Danny.

"I was just saying that for the benefit of the readers," shrugged Spongebob.

A couple by the name of Mr and Mrs. Reader groaned.

"Welp, we caught the wrong bus again," said Mr. Reader, "Thanks for the heads up, Spongebob."

They promptly left, and the group entered the restaurant.

A week ago, Danny had won tickets to a magic show at a local restaurant (the Ghoulish Court – even here, Danny couldn't escape ghosts) in a cereal box. He hadn't intended to go, but Dani had found out and begged him to take her, and he could hardly have said no. Somehow, that had snowballed from two people to eight (it was a very generous promotion) – he, Dani, Jazz, Spongebob, Sandy, Timmy, Jimmy and Cindy.

"Y'all know this is all smoke and mirrors, right?" asked Sandy, dryly.

"What're you talking about?" demanded Spongebob, "If it was fake, they wouldn't call it a magic show, would they?"

"A magician blew up my shoe once," mused Danny, thoughtfully.

"See? How can you fake that?" asked Spongebob.

"Easy – you switch the shoes when no-one's lookin'," snapped Sandy, "Magic ain't real, Spongebob."

Behind her, Timmy suppressed a snort of laughter.

"Tell you what," decided Sandy, "I'll bet five bucks you can't prove this is real magic, deal?"

"Deal," nodded Spongebob, shaking her hand.

By now, they had entered a dimly-lit auditorium, with a large stage set out before several candle-lit dinner tables. They found a table and sat down, Danny picking up the menu.

He stared at it.

"...um, Jazz?" he said at last, "Remember how I said you didn't have to help pay for dinner?"

Jazz sighed, and passed him her wallet.

"Thanks."

A few minutes passed, during which they ordered their meals, which were somehow just expensive enough to empty both Danny and Jazz's wallets. Suddenly, the lights dimmed even more, and the stage lit up.

A man in the corner began to play a piano as a figure in a black dress and top hat made her way on stage, entering into a slow, graceful dance to the time of the music. The lights changed colour around her as she continued her strangely enchanting movements. Her dance was like ballet, like swing, but not quite either.

"Wow, pretentious," whispered Timmy.

After a few minutes of this, she stopped dancing, bowing to the audience before speaking.

"Greetings!" she exclaimed in a slight Russian accent, "I am Madame Athena..."

"How original," said Jimmy, dryly.

Cindy shushed him.

"Welcome to my performance," Athena continued, her voice naturally carrying over the audience, "For the next two hours, I will be attempting to enthral your very senses..."

"'Attempting' being the key word," muttered Sandy.

"Do I detect a skeptic in the audience?" Athena boomed.

There was brief silence as she turned to their table and looked Sandy straight in the eye. The magician grinned.

"Looks like we'll have to change that," she hissed.

She turned to the left of the stage.

"Bring forth..._the Box!_"

A couple of stagehands ran onto the stage, carrying a tall box, almost like a very plain coffin. They put it at the centre of the stage before running off again.

"What's in the box?" quipped Jimmy.

"_Lame_," groaned Dani.

"Now," said Athena, looking over the audience, "I'm going to need a volunteer..."

She looked over the crowd, scrutinising it carefully, before pointing to Jazz.

"You'll do," she stated, "Come up here."

Jazz looked utterly bewildered, trying to see if the magician was pointing at anyone else before Dani literally pushed her towards the stage. She made her way up, looking nervously towards the table and finding that she could barely see anything beyond the bright stage lights.

"What is your name, child?" asked Athena.

"Jazz," replied Jazz, uneasily.

"Well, young Jazz," grinned Athena, "Would you kindly get into the Box for us? We have much to do and so little time."

Jazz swallowed and nodded. Athena walked over to the box and opened it up from the side, allowing her volunteer to step inside.

"Now," said Athena, "Prepare to be amazed!"

Again, she looked straight at Sandy. The squirrel rolled her eyes.

Athena shut the box and turned it around, revealing a crank on the back. She waved her arm over it, before slowly starting to turn it. As she did, the box began to shake and rumble. She span for ten seconds before stopping and turning the box around again.

She opened it up. There was nothing there. The audience applauded.

"Yeah, that's gotta be mirrors," whispered Sandy.

"Shh!" hissed Spongebob.

"As you can see," boomed Athena, standing in the box to demonstrate its emptiness, "My lovely assistant has vanished off the face of the earth."

She looked down at herself.

"I suppose it is now my turn," she grinned.

She chuckled, and shut the box on herself as a stagehand ran out from stage left. Turning it around, he tapped the crank and it began to spin on its own, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The box began to shake again, now looking as if it would rip itself to pieces.

Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

"Uh...is that supposed to happen?" asked the stagehand, nervously.

The audience could just about see a figure giving the thumbs up in the darkness beside the stage. The stagehand nodded, walking offstage.

The box opened.

Athena walked out, a knowing smile on her face.

"It seems I have not vanished," she noted, "Now, where is our dear Jazz?"

"In a trapdoor under the stage," hissed Sandy.

Athena reached into a pocket that hadn't been there before, rummaging through it before pulling out a series of multicoloured handkerchiefs tied together – orange, blue and black...

"...um, is that what I think it is?" quizzed Dani.

"Ghost," snarled Danny, clenching his fists, "I'm calling it."

"We don't know that yet!" hissed Cindy, "Calm down and see what she does!"

Danny restrained himself and continued to watch.

Athena had finished revealing the long line of handkerchiefs and was now tying both ends of the line together. Bringing it together into a loose knot, she held the untightened ends in her hands.

"Now, what happens if I do _this!_" she exclaimed.

She pulled.

There was an explosion of smoke.

When it cleared, Jazz was standing there, looking dazed and confused.

"...wh-what happened?" she groaned.

"Ah, there she is!" exclaimed Athena, as the audience cheered.

"D-did I just..."

"Momentarily cease to exist, yes," nodded Athena, "So, people of the Ghoulish Court – do you believe me now?!"

There was another round of applause. Danny blinked, staring at the stage.

"...yeah, I'm pretty sure that was real," he said.

"See? What did I tell you?" grinned Spongebob.

"Hold that thought, Squarepants," growled Sandy, "You got no proof. This show ain't over yet..."

* * *

"You'd better like this stuff," sighed Danny, "It cost me all I had."

Dinner had arrived not long after the first act, although Jazz was still onstage. While nothing had outdone the opening act, she had stayed up to help with a few smaller tricks, and seemed to be having a lot more fun at this point. Right now, it was a fairly typical 'is this your card' routine with some of the people closer to the stage.

"Turner, you're in a fancy restaurant!" snapped Jimmy, as Timmy began eating his chicken schnitzel with his hands.

"Sho?" asked Timmy, his mouth full.

"You have a knife and fork, use them!" growled Jimmy.

Timmy looked down.

"Oh," he nodded, "Thanks Jim."

He stabbed his knife into the chicken, lifted it up, and took a bite out of it. Jimmy facepalmed.

"You, with the knife!"

Timmy looked to the stage. Athena was now pointing at him.

"...did I miss something important?" he gulped.

"Yep!" grinned Dani, grabbing his arm, "We both got picked! Come on!"

Dani skipped towards the stage, dragging Timmy with her.

Athena raised an eye at the young girl's enthusiasm as she arrived at her side with her friend.

"So what is your name, little one?" she asked.

"Dani," replied Danny, "This is Timmy."

"Hi," nodded Timmy, swallowing the remaining food in his mouth.

Athena nodded at Timmy, before turning to a new apparatus brought onstage. It was made up of two red boxes laid out on the floor, connected by a few pipes between them.

"Now, would you care to lie down in the boxes?" she asked.

Dani quickly entered the one on the left, with a reluctant Timmy climbing into the one on the right. Athena closed up the boxes and turned to Jazz.

"Now, on my cue, we push the two boxes together," she ordered.

Jazz nodded, and leant against the right-hand box. Slowly, both she and Athena began to push the two boxes closer to each other...then _into_ each other, as they simply melted together as they seamlessly melded together, until eventually, there seemed to be just one box.

"There we go," grinned Athena, "Now, shall we open it up?"

Before Jazz could reply, Athena threw the box open, and the one occupant sat up. The audience cheered again.

Dani reached up to her head, her vision strangely off centre. She then turned her head to the right – and began to laugh.

Timmy's head was now stuck on her body.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed.

"What, do you have no appreciation for your friend's body?" Athena asked wryly, "Now, see me after the show and I'll fix you up..."

"...I have to wait?" demanded Timmy, "What gives?"

"Time constraints, little Timmy," shrugged Athena, "Now, may I had a round of applause for Ms. Timi?"

Timmy grumbled as Dani took their body back to their table, bowing for the tables along the way.

"Still feeling skeptical?" he demanded, as they sat down again.

"There's gotta be an explanation for this," mused Sandy, slightly unsurely.

* * *

The show was winding down by now. Dinner had been finished (with some difficulty, in Timmy's case), and Jazz was still onstage. At this rate, Danny thought, the magician would probably offer her a job. Her dinner was sitting next to him, slowly getting cold.

"She'd better come back soon, that cost twenty bucks," he said to himself.

"And here we are," announced Athena, "At the last act of tonight's performance. I have tried to save the best until last."

She turned to the group's table again.

"So, Ms. Skeptic," she called, "Would you care to come up here?"

"Sure," snapped Sandy, "I'm gonna prove this ain't magic!"

She marched onto the stage.

"What is your name, girl?" asked Athena.

"Sandy Cheeks," replied Sandy, "_Scientist._"

"Well, Sandy," nodded Athena, as the next set was moved up, "Would you care to begin?"

"You mean get in another box!" snapped Sandy, "Everything you do is in boxes! You wanna prove anything to me, then stop hidin' your 'magic' and just show me!"

Athena looked more amused than insulted, raising an eyebrow to the audience.

"That is a fair request," she nodded, "Jazz? Go and stand beside her, will you?"

She reached into her pocket again and pulled out a longsword.

"What's that?" asked Sandy, suddenly feeling a lot less confident.

"It's a sword," replied Athena, grabbing the hilt with both hands.

"...and wh-what's it for?" gulped Sandy.

"It's for this."

She swung the sword at her neck. It went right through, continuing through Jazz's neck as well.

Danny was vaguely aware of a high-pitched scream from Spongebob – he himself had leapt to his feet, prepared to rip Athena to pieces there and then. Before he could go ghost, he felt a tug at his sleeve.

"Shut up and keep watching," hissed Dani.

"_She just killed..._"

He trailed off as he watched Athena pick up both heads – both alive and mostly unharmed.

"...what," blurted Sandy, looking down at her lack of a body, "How..."

"It's magic," replied Jazz, beaming, "We don't have to explain it!"

"Quite right, Jazz," nodded Athena, smiling as the crowd began to cheer again, "Now, let's put you back together..."

She put their heads onto necks – the wrong necks.

Jazz laughed and grabbed her new tail as Sandy looked down at Jazz's body, trying to work out exactly how this had happened. At their table, Danny's jaw had dropped and Jimmy was shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," grinned Athena, "That's our show for tonight – Dani, Jazz and Sandy, please come and see me after the show. As for the rest of you, remember, there is _always_ some magic in your lives. Good night and sweet dreams!"

She raised her arms and a swarm of white butterflies appeared from nowhere, darting above the heads of the cheering audience. She then danced offstage to the sound of the piano player, and the crowd began to leave...

* * *

Sandy felt her neck, making absolutely sure this was her body as they walked to the bus stop. Beside her, Spongebob was whistling to himself; he was content, happy and five bucks richer.

In front of them, Dani and Timmy were in separate bodies again, the latter trying very hard to forget any of this had ever happened. It would be easier if Dani just stopped talking about how cool it was.

Jimmy and Cindy were comparing notes, trying to find a scientific explanation for the night's events. It seemed that even after all they'd seen, some people just would not stop being skeptics.

Danny was looking through his empty wallet for his bus pass, wondering how he'd pay for lunch at the Nasty Burger tomorrow. He was thinking about Athena – she couldn't be a ghost, or she'd set off his ghost sense, so what was she?

Jazz was whistling to herself, carrying an envelope in her pocket. Inside contained a fully-paid scholarship to study psychotherapy at Cambridge University, plus the deed to a flat in the centre of the town. All of this was in exchange for working part-time as an assistant to a magician named Madame Athena.

Seemed a fair trade.

* * *

You know, this was supposed to be Sandy-centric, yet I don't think it ended up having a central character at all. :| (Although I'll admit, Cindy may as well have not been there, for all she did).

Also, that thing Danny mentioned with the shoe? That happened to me once. :)


	5. 05 10 12: Unidentified Flying Object

Just a quickie I restored from my old documents today - I went out tonight, so it was a bit hard to find time.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** I've never even heard that word, so good on 'em. :P No entires just yet, but Tweenisode's doing something, so you should watch her. :D Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yeah, it was a while ago. After he did it, he asked what I wanted most in the world at the moment. I looked in the eye and said, with complete earnestness - 'a train set'. :D As for the bunny trick, it's magic of course! Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you liked it, and I think you're right there. Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

**05/10/12: Unidentified Flying Object**

_Washington DC, United States of America.  
0128 hours, 12__th__ July 2009._

Few would have noticed the shining light above the city of Washington that night. It appeared from a distance to be the size of a small star, and most would have written it off as being a satellite.

Suddenly, the star began to move.

It was only slight at first; one would have to squint to notice. As it got faster, however, the light began to expand and glow red. Before long, it was about the width of an HB pencil, and getting bigger quickly.

Within thirty seconds, the light was about five thousand feet over the United States. It was heading for Washington DC at the speed of about mach nine.

Flaming over the outskirts of DC, it became apparent to its few observers that it was a grey cylinder, not dissimilar to those Wells described in his book 'the War of the Worlds.' It hurtled over Washington, heading towards the centre of the city.

It finally reached the city, and hurtled towards the ground – it's trajectory putting a landmark in its path.

The Washington Monument was spectacularly ripped in two without causing so much as a scratch to the cylinder that destroyed it. About one hundred years from the monument it had wrecked, the cylinder crashed. Behind it, the Washington Monument's remains smashed into unrecognisable rubble.

Within ten minutes, the Green Berets had the area locked down and were attempting to excavate the cylinder out of the ground. Suddenly, it began to open.

The soldiers trained their guns on the opening as a shadow stepped from the cylinder. Their leader, a master sergeant, called out.

"Drop your weapons and step out of the cylinder!" he barked, "You are under the custody of United States Military! If you do not comply, we will fire!"

He lowered his voice and turned to another soldier.

"Repeat that in French, German and Korean."

"Don't worry, _sir_," a voice emerged from the cylinder.

A figure walked out of the smoke.

"I'll come quietly," Princess Mandie.

* * *

_Sydney, Australia._

_Twenty minutes later._

"It's pronounced Man-_die_?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. President."

The President scowled, and shooed away the man who had given him the information. Still looking miffed, he turned to the man he was meeting with.

"Sorry, Mr. Masters," he groaned, "The Government wants to ship me to Silicon Valley for a meeting with E.T.'s sister."

"Don't worry, Mr. President," Vlad Masters nodded, grinning in a businesslike way, "I'm sure I can keep the Prime Minister entertained while you're dealing with such a pressing matter to humanity."

The President nodded, and looked out the window. The Sydney Harbour Bridge glistened under the sun.

"Never thought I'd have to deal with First Contact," he sighed, "I guess the Truman Facility finally gets used."

"You'll manage," reassured Vlad, "Air Force One awaits, Mr. President."

The President scowled as he walked out the door. Vlad sat back, and opened a laptop.

"We could be in for a rather nasty surprise," he said to himself, "A nasty surprise indeed."

* * *

_Dimmsdale, California.  
1058 hours. 12__th__ July 2009._

"…landings across the world. As well as our own cylinder at the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, the FBI has confirmed cylinders in Washington, New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami and Amity Park, as well as unconfirmed reports of landings in London, Paris, Berlin, Sydney and Tokyo. We'll bring you news as it comes. Until then, I'm Chet Ubetcha…"

Denzel Crocker turned off the TV.

"Well, children, it seems that the FAIRIES have decided to send us some cylinders for some bizarre reason," he explained.

"They're not fairies," mused AJ, a bald boy at the front of the room.

"Really?" nodded Crocker, sarcastically "Well, Ibrehim, would you care to tell me what they are?"

"Aliens from the planet Boudacia," explained AJ, "I've been tracking those cylinders for four days."

"You have no life," interrupted Chester McBadbat.

"Seriously," snapped AJ, "The energy readings on those cylinders are huge! At nine o'clock tonight, they'll…"

_BRIIIIIIIIIING!_

AJ sighed as the whole class filed out at lightning speed, leaving only Chester and Timmy Turner behind.

"Well, it's gruel time," grinned Chester, heading for the door.

AJ stopped him.

"At nine o'clock tonight," he said, his voice grim and hushed, "Those things will finish depressurising and the device inside will be activated."

"Err…and that's bad because…" demanded Timmy.

AJ grabbed a felt-tip marker and walked over to the globe in the corner of the room. He moved the globe to Dimmsdale's position and pressed the marker on the little dot.

"My gut says something _real_ bad happens," he replied, "To be honest; I don't wanna wait and find out."

"So we've gotta get out of town?" mused Timmy, "What about everyone else? Shouldn't we warn..."

"Timmy. We leave. Now."

Reluctantly, Timmy and Chester followed their friend, Timmy grabbing his pink-and-green bag on the way.

It was a decision he would not regret.

* * *

I think I'd intended this as some sort of Independence Day clone.


	6. 06 10 12: Fiddling Away

Not much to say here, except this continues the Fiddley Thing line of 'shots.

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** Indeed. :P I guess the universe must've preferred Timantha. XD Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Probably standalone, although I may do something with it later. There _will_ be a three-parter this year, though... Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55:** Yeah, sorry about that. Don't worry, hopefully this one's better. Thanks for the review.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Maybe one day. :) Thanks very much!

**Gokiburi Prince:** Yes, yes I did. I am a genius. :| Thanks!

* * *

**06/10/12: Fiddling Away**

It was early morning when he knocked on the door.

Pulling herself from bed, Sandy had groggily gotten dressed and come downstairs, heading to the door. As he walked out into the Treedome, she immediately groaned.

A house with rockets attached had been parked next to road outside. Dr. Insano was standing outside, waving slightly.

Shaking her head, Sandy opened to door.

"I'm not giving you your Fiddley Thing back," she snapped.

"I'm not asking," replied Insano, "I came for something else."

"You can't use my lab..."

"No, not that."

"I'm not letting you use Spongebob as a test subject..."

"Not that either!"

"I don't know the meaning behind 'American Pie'."

"No!" snapped Insano, "...although if you ever work it out, tell me."

Sandy sighed.

"Alright, what is it?" she asked.

"I was wondering if you could tell me where the square is," replied Insano, "I have something to tell you..."

* * *

"Who's house is this, anyway?" asked Sandy.

She, Insano and Spongebob were sitting in the living room of Insano's flying house, floating over Spongebob's pineapple.

"Nostalgia Critic's," shrugged Insano, "He's not using it right now, something about a Plot Hole. Not important right now."

"What's going on?" asked Spongebob.

"I am here to say goodbye," replied Insano.

There was a long silence.

"...goodbye?" quizzed Spongebob.

"Yes," nodded Insano, "I have decided to fine the Centre of the Universe, and use that to crossover to another, weaker universe and conquer that instead."

"...and to do this, you need to find the Centre of the Universe..._why?"_ questioned Sandy.

"Well, I reckon there'll either be a hole in space-time there, or it'll be God," shrugged Insano, "Either way, win-win."

"So why'd you come here?" asked Sandy, "Why not just leave?"

"Because..."

He sighed.

"...because why not?" he said, "Because you, Linkara and Spoony are the closest things I've had to friends, and I am a very lonely mad scientist."

He shook his head.

"Anyway, I want you to have to Fiddley Thing..."

"We already do," reminded Sandy.

"Oh, good!" nodded Insano, "That was easy! Uh...alright then, I guess I'll be leaving then. Have a good life!"

"Uh, shouldn't you think about this before..."

* * *

"...and he kicked us out," sighed Sandy, as she and Spongebob watched the house fly into the sky above.

"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" mused Spongebob.

"Yes," replied Sandy, bluntly.

There was a short silence.

"...so, the Fiddley Thing's officially ours now," mentioned Spongebob.

Sandy nodded.

There was a brief silence.

* * *

"Spongebob!" demanded Squidward, knocking on Spongebob's front door, "Will you knock that racket off, I'm trying to..."

He opened the door, and saw a line of square-dancing duplicates of Sandy.

"...and the real one is..." he began.

"We all are!" the duplicates said as one.

"...and Spongebob is..."

The duplicates pointed up. Spongebob was attached to the roof and slowly spinning, colourful lights coming from his holes.

"Hi," he said.

"Yep," sighed Squidward, "Well Squiddy, you finally cracked. I'm going home and crying myself to sleep."

And with that, he walked away.

* * *

I must admit, the stupid ones are my favorites. Insano will be back, wait and see...


	7. 07 10 12: Batavia

Put on some sea shanties and prepare to lose faith in humanity, because this is the first part of this year's multi-parter, and it's based on a true story!

I would like to ask anyone who knows what happened to _Batavia _and therefore how this ends to please not tell anyone, so as not to spoil it for anyone else.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** It's a favorite of mine as well, so what can I do, eh? :P Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** We shall see, we shall see... Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** The stupid ones are fun to write, too! :D Thanks for the review.

**Autobot-Outcast:** Yeah, as would I. :] Thanks very much!

* * *

**07/10/12: Batavia**

By the 17th Century, the race to discover and control the world was truly on.

The Spaniards controlled the majority of Central and South America, with the Portuguese taking the rest. These were empires of gold and silver, forged on the blood of slaves. These trades had vastly enriched Spain in the 1500s, but most of that wealth had been squandered in the Phillip II's conflicts with England. Portugal, joined in personal union with Spain, was slowly having her colonies eaten away by rival powers.

The English and the French were beginning the slow process of colonising North America and conquering the stupendously wealthy states of the Indian subcontinent. Their stars were rising in the New World, but it would be a long time before they were truly colonial powers.

The Dutch, however, were a very different story. The Dutch East India Company (the VOC) had established itself as the prominent power in South East Asia. It controlled the East Indies, and through that it controlled one of the most lucrative trades in history – the spice trade. In Europe, spices meant wealth, and lots of it – the VOC became a popular career choice. This wealth also benefited the Dutch government – they constructed a powerful navy, capable of defending her shores against all threats. This was the zenith of Dutch power.

There was a catch to this wealth, however. In the days before the Suez Canal, the only routes to the Indies were via the Cape of Good Hope at the bottom of Africa or through 'Drake's Passage', south of the tip of South America. The later meant sailing right through the heart of the Spanish Empire and its mighty galleons, so naturally the African route was preferred.

In taking this route, ships could take the 'trade winds' that blow east from the Cape to Western Australia, before changing course and heading to Batavia (modern-day Jakarta), which was the capital of the VOC. This greatly increased a ship's speed, but it could be dangerous – the Australian coast was mostly unmapped at this point, and many ships only discovered its dangers when they sailed into a reef and sank.

This is one such story.

In 1628, the _Batavia_, a brand new 'East Indiaman' (a large and reasonably well-defended trade ship) sailed with a Company fleet from Texel in Northern Holland, headed for the port of Batavia. She was commanded by a VOC official named Francisco Pelsaert – her captain, subordinate to Pelsaert, was Ariaen Jacobsz. One of her officers was a man named Jeronimus Cornelisz, a pharmacist fleeing the country due to what society considered to be heretic beliefs.

_Batavia_ would never arrive at her destination.

The following story has been fictionalized. The names have been changed for the benefit of the fiction. In spite of this, the gist of this story is absolutely true.

Be warned – this story is not a happy one. It tells one of the terrible tales in maritime history. It is a glimpse at what happens to people trapped on the other side of the world with no law or consequences. It is a story of fear, desperation and cold-blooded murder.

This is the story of Batavia's Graveyard.

* * *

"Captain! Front and centre!"

Vlad Masters, a high ranking VOC official, was pacing the bridge of the ship, looking utterly livid. Tapping his foot, he waited for Captain Moe Syzlack to make his way up to him, the unkempt sailor seeming to deliberately take his time. At last, he arrived.

"Yes, Mr. Masters?" he asked, saluting sloppily.

"Where is the fleet?" demanded Vlad, pointing to the open sea around them.

Moe looked around, before shrugging.

"We're on course," he replied, "Musta turned north early."

Vlad clenched his fists.

"Captain," he sneered, "Throughout this entire voyage, you have given me nothing but trouble. Instead of helping us resupply the ship at the Cape, you went and got drunk for six weeks. You have been uncooperative with my orders. Please forgive me if I don't believe that statement."

Moe frowned.

"Masters, I done this before, alright?" he snarled, "Just lay off and let me sail my ship..."

"This is _my_ ship," growled Vlad, "Don't forget that – or I'll have you flogged."

He and Moe stared each other in the eyes for several seconds.

"No _sir_," hissed Moe, walking away.

* * *

"We gotta get rid a' him."

Moe had gathered a few of the officers in his cabin, and was now pacing back and forth in the dark, candle-lit room. The second highest ranking VOC agent, a Mr. Phantom, was rapping his fingers on the desk, with the other officers skulking in the shadows. These men had been meeting for some time, some since before the _Batavia_ had reached the Cape of Good Hope. Fed up with Masters' command, they had begun to plan a mutiny.

"We don't have the crew's loyalty yet," reminded Phantom, "If Masters' can rally them, we're as good as beaten...and if we're beaten, we'll hang."

"But the crew _hate_ that no-good piece o'..." began Moe, clenching his fists.

"...and you expect them to just abandon their lives and go pirate?" demanded Phantom, "You can't rush this; we need to convince them we're worth following."

Moe shook his head.

"Alright, but if he pushes me one more time, I'm gonna rip out his spine and keelhaul him with it!"

"Calm down," ordered Phantom, "It'll only be a few more days. What could happen?"

* * *

Several hours later, Moe was standing on the forecastle, fighting off exhaustion.

It was three in the morning – _Batavia _was sailing under the stars at full sail. There were 340 souls aboard – sailors, soldiers, VOC merchants and civilians. They were 3200 kilometres from their destination.

"Captain."

Moe snorted and shook off some drowsiness as a lookout walked over to him, looking concerned.

"Wha? Yeah, what is it?"

"We've got white water ahead," replied the lookout, "Might be hazardous. Orders?"

"Ain't no reef here," shrugged Moe, "Full sail, straight on."

"But sir..."

"Hey, who's the captain here?" demanded Moe, "Full sail!"

The lookout nodded, and went back to his post.

* * *

Private Tommy Pickles was in his hammock, trying to get some sleep. It had been a long, boring voyage, standing around guarding the cargo, and he was looking forward to its end.

_Join the East India Company, they said,_ he thought, _a life of adventure awaits, they said._

He rolled over into a more comfortable position and began to nod off.

Then there was a thunderous crash and he was thrown from his hammock.

* * *

Moe was laying face-first on the deck, knocked off his feet by the crash. He cursed loudly and climbed to his feet as some sailors ran to consult him.

"Jesus, what the hell happened?" he demanded.

There was a brief silence, before a seaman stepped forward. His face was pale as a ghost.

"We've hit a reef, sir," he explained, hoarsely, "The hull's torn right through."

Moe's face turned white.

_Batavia _had run into a reef in then-mostly unexplored Houtman's Abrolhos, an archipelago 80 kilometres off the coast of Western Australia. She was five hundred kilometres off-course.

The damage was catastrophic. Although _Batavia_'s hull had three layers to protect her, the reef had torn right through them. Jacobsz responded immediately, ordering the ship's cannons to be tossed overboard, hoping to lighten the ship enough to float off the reef.

It was a fruitless endeavour. Stuck fast, the ship was now being slowly broken up by the elements. The _Batavia_ was doomed...

* * *

Two or three parts left. :)


	8. 08 10 12: Down the Mine

Not so much 'comedy' as 'light-hearted' here, but ah well.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Well, it's Moe from the Simpsons, so... :P Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, Jacobsz was an angry, crude man, so Moe seemed to fit. Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55:** SPOILER ALERT: THE BOAT SINKS. :P Thanks for the review!

* * *

**08/10/12: Down the Mine**

"I'm cold," said Danny.

He, Sam and Tucker were standing in a cold, damp mine tunnel, underneath a mountainside in North Wales. They had come here on a hunch – Danny's parents had detected some ghost activity in Britain. With Jazz heading off to Cambridge in a few weeks, and Danny had deducted that the detected ghost knew of him and were planning to attack his sister.

Thus, they had jumped into the Spectre Speeder and followed the trail here – an abandoned slate mine, far from any major cities or roads. Escaping a torrential downpour outside, they were now trying to avoid the constantly dripping roof and the large puddles on the ground, the only light being Danny's glowing hand.

"Quit it," snapped Sam, "You're the one who dragged us out here."

"With good reasons," retorted Danny.

He cringed as he accidentally walked under a dripping support beam, drenching his hair.

"Ugh, we would've been dryer outside," he complained.

"We should be getting close," announced Tucker, looking up from his PDA, "We're about thirty metres away."

They rounded a corner. Before them was an old pit – which was now completely flooded.

"Well," grinned Sam, tossing Danny the Fenton Thermos, "After you."

"Yeah, we'll wait here and make sure no-one follows you," added Tucker.

"You're true friends," deadpanned Danny.

He steeled himself before holding his breath and jumping into the pit. Crashing into the water, he cringed as the freezing water chilled him to the bone, and began to swim down the tunnel.

He quickly reached the bottom and swum up another tunnel, taking him slightly upwards, towards the blip. Reaching a ladder and a tunnel up, he swam upwards and emerged from the icy water, breathing in with relief as he did.

It only then struck him that he could probably have just phased his way in here.

He shook his head and climbed out, reaching a chamber. Here, he could see old stalagmites and writing on the walls. It looked more like a cave then a mine.

Danny walked over to the writing and tried to read it, but it was in a language he didn't understand.

"That'd be Welsh, lad."

Danny jumped, and turned around.

His heart skipped a beat.

Behind him was an opening – and in it, a massive red dragon.

"You're the ghost!" he realised.

"Ghost?" snapped the dragon, "Do I look like a ghost to you? I'm a bloody dragon you racist!"

"Uh...sorry, bu-but you showed up on my ghost tracker and I thought..." Danny stammered.

"Pah! You need a better tracker, boy," growled the dragon.

"Why are you down here?" asked Danny, "I thought dragons were just myths or forms taken by ghosts."

""So you believe in ghosts but not myths, lad?" quizzed the dragon, "Hear me young 'un, the myths are a real as you and I...well, before people start exaggerating them. I lived in the days of Arthur, boy – are you going to deny him?"

"King Arthur?" exclaimed Danny, "And...and the Knights of the Round Table? They're real?"

"Yes," replied the dragon, "Although probably not as you know them. I mean, first the bloody Southerners changed the legend; then it was the English and the Christians and all of a sudden, the whole thing turns into something it's not. Bloody monks, you should never let them write history, I'll tell you..."

"So, who are you?" asked Danny.

"Jones," replied the dragon, proudly.

There was a long silence.

"What?" quizzed Jones.

"Your name is Jones," repeated Danny, dryly.

"Yes, is there a problem?"

"No, I just thought...y'know what, never mind," shrugged Danny, "So, you're not gonna kill anyone?"

"Course not," beamed the dragon, "Might eat a sheep or two, but you lot – _way_ too stringy, and your brains taste horrid."

There was another long silence. Danny paled.

Suddenly, Jones roared with laughter.

"Ha! The look on your face!" he exclaimed, "Don't worry, couldn't hurt anyone if I tried. The old miners blasted the old cave entrance for a start, so I can't leave..."

He sighed.

"I've been down here for two hundred years, lad," he said, sadly, "Y'know it's been said that when all the dragons meet at the place where King Arthur sleeps that he'll wake up – guess that'll never happen, eh?"

"Well, at least you don't to swim back through...back through..."

An invisible light bulb turned on in Danny's head.

"I've got an idea," he said.

He activated the Fenton phones.

"Sam, Tucker, meet me up top – I got something for you."

"_Is this a prank?_" demanded Sam.

"No, it's real," replied Danny, "Now go!"

"What are you doing, boy?" demanded Jones, as Danny approached him.

"Can I ride you?" asked Danny.

"...why, we can't go anywhere," reminded Jones.

"You'll see," grinned Danny, climbing onto Jones' back.

He looked up. There was about enough space above them for Jones to lift off, but not to manoeuvre without hitting rocks, and a roof that looked very solid.

"Fly up," ordered Danny.

"What?" demanded Jones, "Are you _insane?_"

"Just trust me," said Danny grinning wolfishly.

"Why?"

"Remember our talk about ghosts?" reminded Danny, "Now fly!"

"...this is gonna hurt," groaned Jones, but he kicked off anyway.

Up they flew, closer and closer to the rock hard ceiling. Danny shut his eyes, and willed them intangible, hoping it worked on dragons. Jones was bracing himself for the crash.

It never came.

All of a sudden, Danny felt the rain.

He opened his eyes. They were floating above the mountainside, rain pelting down on them. He smiled as he heard Jones begin to laugh, letting his own cheer out as they headed for the mine entrance. There, Sam and Tucker were looking at them, dumbfounded.

"You did it!" exclaimed Jones, "It's...rain! Wind! Clear air! _I'm free!_"

He soared onwards, past the entrance and towards the near-distant shape of Snowdon, highest mountain in Wales. Up they went, through the clouds and above them, to where the summit of the mountain was peeking through, illuminated by the mid-afternoon light. He looped around a few times before landing just below the summit, near the man-made staircase that led to the very top.

Here, he let Danny off and sat down, taking in the warmth of the sun for the first time in years. He sat here in silence for a while, ignoring the Spectre Speeder as it landed close by. Sam and Tucker ran up to their friend.

"What just happened?" demanded Tucker, "I...what just happened?"

"Guys, this is Jones," replied Danny, beaming, "He just got out of a cave he was trapped in for two-hundred years."

Jones didn't listen, still taking in the sun.

"So...you found a dragon," said Sam, trying to put everything together, "You made friends with him, and you freed him from a cave."

"Sunlight," whispered Jones, "It's even better then I remembered it."

He looked over the clouds, hanging low under the summit. It was a peaceful sight.

"What is your name, lad?" he asked.

"Uh...Danny Fenton," replied Danny.

Jones turned his head and looked him straight in the eye, his face looking utterly serene.

"_Thank you,_ Danny Fenton," he said, utterly sincerely.

"Where are you gonna go now?" asked Danny.

"To find my king," replied Jones, "I think he's slept long enough."

He kicked off, and began to float above them.

"Right then, lads, lass," he said, looking over the teenagers, "I'll be off then. We'll meet again, one day..."

"Uh, one more thing," replied Danny, "My sister...she's gonna be studying in Cambridge soon, and..."

"She'll come to no harm, Danny," nodded Jones, "I'll make bloody sure of it."

"Thanks," Danny smiled.

"Well, I'll be off!" grinned Jones, "Have a good 'un, lads!"

And with that, he soared off, heading back below the clouds. Danny watched him vanish from sight, still grinning. He hoped his new friend would enjoy his freedom. For a while, he and his friends simply sat there in silence, watching the clouds go by.

"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" asked Tucker.

"That was so cliché, Tucker," sighed Sam.

"And just like that, the magic is gone," shrugged Danny, "C'mon, let's head back – its Tucker's shout at Nasty Burger."

And with that, the three friends walked back to the Spectre Speeder.

* * *

Just noticed that this is the first chapter in this without any mid-story line breaks. Funny bit of trivia for you. :|

EDIT: Oh, yeah, this weeks word is 'Rain'.


	9. 09 10 12: Collection

Totally random one today. :)

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** My god...they calculused it up! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HEEELLLLL! *bursts into tears* ...in other words, totally understand. :D Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** I'd say Tom Jones, given that he's supposed to be Welsh. And eh, cliches have to be popular to become cliches, right? :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Movie-Brat:** ...but he's Scottish... :| Thanks for the review!

**Autobot-Outcast:** Vague continuity, on a few stories, but continuity nonetheless! Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** I'll probably do another one, maybe. Thanks!

* * *

**09/10/12: Collection**

Ah, hello, you're the fellow who wanted to look at my collection? I believe we spoke on the phone.

As you know, I am Dr. Sir Archibald Canton, a patron of the fine arts, as I'm sure you are. I sell across the world, dear fellow, and though my works may not be...ethical, per say, they are by no means illegal and should certainly impress. If you'll follow me?

We're now entering the art gallery – for it is a poor fellow who cannot appreciate a painting, you understand. Take this one.

Teenagers – a boy and a girl. One a ghostly superhuman who fought criminal ghosts, the other a goth with a heart of gold. There's a funny story of how I got this one. They came here a few years ago, investigating some sort of art robbery – they thought _I'd_ done it. Oh no, I've never stolen an artwork in my life – I'd never do something so disrespectful to the artist. I simply informed them that some of my art materials had an ectoplasmic residue, which is of course far from illegal. In order to make up for the trouble I'd inadvertently caused, I offered to make them a painting.

Hah...make them a painting.

Ahem...anyway, they agreed, so I took them into the portrait room and the rest is history, dear friend. I must say, they're much better off as oils and paint then they are standing around bothering my work.

...sorry?

Oh no, no, it's not illegal sir! Who would think to make a law against that? They'd be laughed out of parliament...or congress, I suppose, they were Americans.

Ah, but there's more in the statue garden, if you will. Follow on.

Ah, the statue garden. Very peaceful, especially on a fine day like this. Any of them take your interest?

Ah, that one. Very nice, isn't it? Pure white marble – best material to make a statue from, hmm? There's another story behind it, if you care for it.

This boy came round about five years ago, asking me for a method of impressing a young woman. I was intrigued, so I asked him for details – turns out, the object of his attraction was none other than the heiress to the Tang family's riches, _very_ valuable for a collection like mine.

I extended an invitation to them both that very night, and offered to show them my solution for sculpting these things. 'Tis a simple application; the subject makes a pose, I spray them, they harden up, we have art! Wasn't interested in the boy, so I threw him out afterwards. I don't know where those three birds on her podium come from, but they were a nice touch, don't you think?

Ah, feel that sun! I could stand here all day! Alas, I have more to show, if you'll follow me to the loft.

See that wall display? Pewter figures. Each of them has a story behind it. Take this one – it's alright, you can hold him. I found him...oh...must have been twenty years ago? He came in through the door in the pantry, there's always been a bit of temporal wobble there. He came from a world where people bent elements – they called him the Avatar. Could hardly let that slide, could I?

I brought him up here, telling him I'd have a way back to his land – nonsense of course, but he ate it up. I told him that that trapdoor up there – leads to the roof, by the way – led to the void between worlds, and he could possibly airbend his way home. So, he did the pose you see now, and I proceeded to use my little ray gun – the apparatus over there, do you like it? – and bam! – another valuable artefact!

Well, there's plenty more where that came from, sir, but I can't help but take in interest in _you_, my friend. Oh don't look at me like that, put it together.

The Last of the Time Lords just came sauntering in with the Girl Who Waited and the Last Centurion? I'm not going to miss such an opportunity! Don't try to run, I have posted my guards at all exits.

Tell me, Doctor...what shall it be?

* * *

Well, someone's doomed here, and it ain't the Doctor.


	10. 10 10 12: Why Did I Write This?

Went out again (dinner at Nan's), so another quickie today.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Ah, I remember those. We used to have them in the school library, I'd skim through them and read the endings. :D Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yeah, Rory will die at least once, because that's how he rolls. ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**Movie-Brat:** I know, I was talking about the dragon. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, a bit of karmic justice should do him well. :) Thanks very much!

* * *

**10/10/12: Why Did I Write This**

Hello! Today was _supposed _to be a SquidRiffs day, but he locked me in my room and ran for Tobago, so it looks like you'll have to deal with my own self-loathing today. Here's another old work from the Nickdale Tales series. Enjoy!

* * *

_Last time on Nickdale Tales…_**Insert Doctor Who music here.**

_"Excellent!" laughed Godron, "Did you bribe the Earthlings to do our bidding?"_

_"Y-yes, warlord," Ewdard_**Cullen? Oh god, I accidently made a Forbiden Fruit reference...**_ replied, "Most of them are ready and willing!"_

_"Trouble is, I missed a wire," Sandy continued, "The whole thing shorted. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and I couldn't see my hand. It all went from there."_**Yep, it's a sequel to ****_that one._**** Have fun!**

_"You're taking losing better then I expected, Gary," Timmy noted._

_"That's because I never needed to win the election, Tim Tim," Gary replied, smiling evilly._**"I just needed that sweet, sweet lobbyist money..."**

_In the crowd, someone brought out a large bazooka-like weapon and fired it at the pink-hatted boy. A large vortex opened, and Timmy was sucked into it._

_"AAAAHHHH!" he yelled, as he vanished._**This happens in broad daylight in a crowded room. And nobody notices.**

_And now…episode seven!_

* * *

"…AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! **It's an old E3 fanfic! Run for your lives!**"

Timmy fell out of the vortex, landing flat on his face on a steel floor. Climbing to his feet, he realized he was in some sort of darkened lab. **My name is Doctor Insano. Welcome to my creepy basement.**

"Guys, where are we?" he whispered to his pencils, Cosmo and Wanda in disguise. **Had to elaborate there, didn't I? Someone might have confused them for Siskel and Ebert or something.**

"I don't know, sport," Wanda replied, "But I don't think this is the school." **Ya think?!**

"Of course it isn't," a voice replied, "Your in my clutches now." **Nice grammar.**

Timmy knew that voice. **It was...Dumbledore!**

"Professor Calamitous?" he gasped.

The short, bald, badly moustached professor walked out of the shadows, grinning evilly. **He held a Missy Higgins CD in his hand. **Timmy pulled Cosmo out of his pocket, who turned into the Cosmo Hammer.

"What do you want with me?" he demanded.

"Why, Turner, it's not what _I_ want," Calamitous chuckled, "It's what the aliens back. **Ouch, that sounds Freudian.** Disarm him."

"What the-"

Timmy was cut short as Cosmo was pulled from his hands. Turning on his heel in shock, he found himself looking at a red jumpsuited teenage girl, with a mask disallowing him from seeing her face. **Disallowing? What the heck is wrong with the word preventing?**

"Ahh, help!" Cosmo yelled, "I mean, Hammer noises!" **Boooooooo.**

"Give it back," Timmy growled, as Wanda became the Starflinger.

"Why?" the girl asked, "So you can attack me with it? I'm not stupid, Turner."

"How do you know my name?" Timmy demanded.

"I know a lot about you, Turner," the girl growled, "Like how you help Danny Phantom destroy Nickdale!" **O hai Valerie!**

"Destroy it?" Timmy yelled in exasperation, "We protect it!" **With illegal vigilantism, of course.**

"Enough talking," Calamitous interrupted, "Knock him out, Valerie."

Timmy prepared Wanda to fire, but Valerie threw a strange canister at him. Smoke erupted from the canister. Timmy felt himself quickly grow weaker before falling into darkness…**then redness...then whiteness...then bloop.**

* * *

"Ugh…"

Timmy felt himself slowly coming back to consciousness. He was in a cage, and the roof was swirling. That's all he knew. He felt disoriented and confused, as well as having a splitting headache. **Hangover joke in three...two...one...**

"What did I _do_ last night?" he groaned, climbing to his feet. His head hurt and he had to lie back. **Seriously, why does he have a hangover now?**

"Hey," a female voice stated.

Timmy's vision sharpened again. A black haired girl with a red beanie, a blue hooded jumper and red shorts was sitting in the corner of the cage. **Shipping again, young me? At least you have good taste.**

"Who the heck're you?" he asked, managing to sit up.

"Dani Fenton," Dani replied, "You?"

"Danny?" Timmy asked, "You can't be Danny, you're a girl!"

"Dani with an _I_," Dani explained, "I'm his cousin."** You know, I think this is the only fic where I address this. Too bad it's crap, really.**

"Oh, _that_ Dani," Timmy nodded.

"How do you know who I am?" Dani asked.

"Me and Danny are in this world-saving group, the Nicktoons," Timmy replied, "He said he had a clone with ghost powers, but he calls you a cousin." **Because it's easier then saying genetic clone and less creepy then saying biological father.**

"He told someone?" Dani gasped.

"Only us," Timmy consoled, "**And the cops. And the papers. **So…what're you in for?"

"Valerie got me," replied Dani, sadly, "I thought she was on my side, but she told me she'd worked out Danny was lying from an expert."

"Calamitous **obviously a highly reputable source then**," Timmy nodded, "Don't worry about it, Valerie tries to get Danny every three days no matter what he says, it's not really unusual. **So yeah, basically she's a lying shrew. How's life?**"

"Yeah, I guess so," sighed Dani, "So, are we getting out of here?"

"How do we get out of a cage?" Timmy asked. **Jimmy the lock, maybe? Trick the guard? Hopefully not something stupid, right?**

Dani grinned. A ring appeared around her midsection, splitting as it went across her body. Her hair became white (the beanie vanishing) and she gained a HAZMAT suit similar to Danny's, except with gloves, boots (uhh, I think they're boots **Yes. Yes, they are boots.**) and an exposed bellybutton.

Grabbing Timmy's hand, she phased through the bars and stepped into the hallway.

**...**

**You mean Calamitous didn't ghost-proof the cage?**

**He's a genius-level scientist...****_and he didn't ghost-proof the cage?_**

**OH MY GOD, THAT WAS JUST STUPID.**

"You could do that this whole time and you never escaped?" asked Timmy, dumfounded.

"This guy told me I had to wait for another prisoner," Dani shrugged, "He had a staff." **Gandalf? What's he doing in this thing?**

"Can't question the staff," nodded Timmy, "So, where do we go?"

"Upstairs," Dani shrugged, "We find Calamitous and kick his butt."

"I like the way you think," Timmy grinned. **Butt-kicking is fun and good for you.**

They began to run down the corridor. **How do they know where they're going?**

"Can I ask you something?" asked Dani.

"Yeah," Timmy shrugged.

"Are you half-ghost?" **"LOL NO," said Timmy.**

"Me?" Timmy chuckled, "No, I'm the guy with the fair – err – reality bending computer programs. Spongebob's friend is a halfa, though." **Oh yeah, I remember. I'm just going over to that wall for a moment.**

**BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH**

**Okay, I'm back.**

Dani nodded.

"So," Timmy asked, "How'd Valerie get you?" **Easy! Just look for the girl Danny, duh.**

"I was trying to find Danny," Dani shrugged, "She cornered me near his house and threw me in here." **How did she know to look near Fenton Works?**

"She sucked me into a black hole," Timmy explained, "She took my computer programs two." **Not three though, luckily.**

He scowled as he said this.

"Uh, Timmy?" noted Dani, "You can stop holding my hand now." **IS MY SHIPPING TOO SUBTLE?!**

Timmy looked down. His hand was still held in Dani's from when the phased out of the cage.

"Oh," he chuckled nervously, turning red in the process, "Sorry. **I'm sure it doesn't mean anything.**"

They reached a stairwell and began to climb. The door slammed shut behind them. **Oh no, it's the Door Ghost!**

* * *

Calamitous and Valerie sat in front of a video link screen, Ewdard on the other side.

"Congratulations on collecting Turner," said Ewdard, "All we need now is Danny Phantom and Neutron will have lost his most powerful allies. **Because no-one cares about the other guys, you know.**"

"What about the rest of the Nicktoons?" Calamitous asked.

"Neutron is powerless without his inventions," Ewdard scoffed, "Get him outside his lab and he's ours for the taking. Squarepants, Pickles and the football head are all weak!** See, what did I tell you?**"

"What do we do after we get the ghost boy?" asked Valerie, eyebrow raised.

"Simple," Ewdard replied, "Get past Plasmius and the squirrel, infiltrate the Ghost Zone and establish rule over it. With ghost power, we will be able to plough through the Earth's defences…"

Valerie looked surprised. Ewdard noticed, quickly changing his tone.

"Uh…and establish a benevolent rule that will benefit both of our races!" he exclaimed, "Yes, that'll do. **We're not invaders! We're peacekeepers!**"

"You'd better," Valerie growled.

"An Alien will keep his word, Valerie," Ewdard nodded, manipulatively.

The vid-link closed. **Ewdard then laughed at Valerie's stupidity for eleven minutes.**

"An invasion of the Ghost Zone is required, eh?" Calamitous considered, "Interesting! I know just who to call. The…um…err…"

"Ghostbusters? **DP/Ghostbusters crossover? YES!**" asked Valerie, "Police? Guys in White?"

"Yes, the Guys in White!" nodded Calamitous, "They'll be able to shred every ghost that they meet! **Ahahahaha no. **With that Pariah Dark fellow in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and Clockwork keeping up his no-intervention stance, it shouldn't be a problem **unless we remember that the GiW are laughably incompetent**. They can't even get in here!"

"As long as you remembered to put Ghost Shields around the building," Valerie added, smugly.

"Oh poo." **Whoops! He made a tremendously stupid oversight again!**

"Thought so," Valerie nodded, "Don't worry, I'm more then a match for any dumb ghost who tries to take a chance at me." **No...must...not...sing...ABBA...**

"I'll need you on the offensive, Valerie," said Calamitous, shaking his head, "While the Guys in White neutralize Neutron merry band and prepare to march on the Fenton Works **you're putting ****_way_**** too much faith in them, you know**, you will bring Plasmius to me. Understand?"

"Got it, Professor," nodded Valerie, "Any chance at that frootloop." **Ooh, there's another Freudian slip.**

Valerie walked into the weapons compound, looking for Timmy's 'weapons'.

She was in for a shock.

"Where'd they go?" **Gone to Reno. BRB.**

* * *

Timmy and Dani found themselves next to a window. The city skyline could be seen from this window. **It was pretty generic, really.**

"Well, we we're **we-we're?** not in the basement anymore," Dani mused.

"Can we stop for a while," Timmy panted, "We've been walking for _fifty-three storeys!" _**Isn't there a lift or something?**

"Alright," Dani nodded, feeling a little pooped herself. The rings appeared as she assumed her human form.

By now the sun was beginning to set over the city, and the glass windows of the skyscrapers were glowing in a brilliant golden light. Below them, people had started to come home from work, and their cars filled the roads. The park, the only natural place in the inner city, was peaceful and the lake glistened in the evening glow. The river could be seen about two thousand yards away, and a small ship was floating down it's golden blue length. **Well, I haven't lost my passion for describing places at sunset.**

From here, it seemed peaceful. **27 felonies were committed that very minute.**

"So," Timmy asked, finding silence awkward, "Where'd you go after you last saw Danny?" **Amarillo, of course.**

"I went around," shrugged Dani, "Went to a few places I thought there'd be a lot of ghosts I should fight. I ended up in Toronto when I found out that Amity Park was gone." **...and no-one in the Federal Government noticed.**

"Blame Jimmy," Timmy shrugged, "He was the one who started it." He imitated the boy genius. "'The universe portal won't explode and merge six worlds, Timmy, I'm too smart for that!'" **This is the only origin for this town we ever get. Savour it, lads and lasses.**

"I was kinda panicking for the first few days, until they worked out that they found its inhabitants in a new city. I kept going around the country for another four months, until I got to Nickdale. I thought I'd look for Danny, and…well…this happened."

Dani gave a mournful smile.

"I worked out that saving people was harder then I thought," she mused, to herself as much as Timmy, "No one thought I was on their side. I've been attacked by police, security…heck, even the Secret Service! What, did they want that giant muscle ghost to rip the President limb from limb?" **To be fair, a ghost flying right at President Obama does not make for a non-threatening image.**

Timmy nodded thoughtfully.

"At least people know that you save them," he muttered.

"What was that?" **No, seriously, what was that? I don't understand.**

"Never mind, it's nothing," Timmy sighed. **Elaborate, dammit!**

Deep below them, Timmy noticed a large amount of white specks on the move. **Oh no! Space Invaders are coming!**

"Who're those guys?" he wondered.

He squinted.

"Uh-oh!" he gasped, "They're the Guys in White!" **Fear them! Fear the idiots!**

"The Who in What?" Dani asked, confused.

"The Guys in White," Timmy replied, "They're this anti-ghost government agency. Calamitous obviously got them on his side." **Which kind of makes then a pretty poor government agency.**

A red flash glided past them, headed for City Hall at high speed. Timmy and Dani knew who it was. **Superman? What are you doing here?**

"Valerie," they snarled.

"We've gotta warn Danny!" Dani gasped.

"But what about Calamitous?" asked Timmy.

"We can deal with him later, Danny's life is at stake!" Dani exclaimed. **...why? He's fought off Valerie many times, why's this different?**

Timmy nodded as Dani assumed her ghost form.

"We're a-coming, Danny!" Timmy yelled, holding Dani's hand as they phased through the window.

Dani stared.

"I'm sorry, force of habit." **Just a sec...**

**BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG**

**...and we're done for now. Goodbye everyone!**

* * *

Every time I read these old fics, I ask myself..._why?_


	11. 11 10 12: Purpose

WARNING: This chapter contains LA Noire spoilers and Time Lords. It's not as serious as some odd-number days, but it still fits, I hope.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Is that a challenge? :| Thanks for reading!

**Movie-Brat:** ...because I'm bad at writing Welsh accents? :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, I like riffing my old stuff, so I'm glad we think alike. XD Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** Glad I have - I don't think we need any Ewdards in this collection. :P Thanks very much!

**Autobot-Outcast:** Sadly, the Cabbage Merchant wasn't a villain in that one. :[ Thanks!

* * *

**11/10/12: Purpose**

_13__th__ January 1948 – Kansas_

The man had been driving for quite some time, and he didn't know where to. Away, probably.

He sat in his car, a black, worn-out old Buick Business Coupe he'd bought on the cheap, looking out over the dark cornfield. The full moon above lit the whole area in the silvery light – the lights and chaos of the city had been left far behind him.

He sighed, and looked into his wallet. Inside, he had about ten dollars and an old, half-ruined ID card from his old job. Most of it was illegible, save the name and badge number.

_COLE PHELPS, 1247._

That's all he was now, wasn't it? Just a name – a vagrant trying to find some purpose, some atonement in a world that was better off without him. All he had in the world was that badge, a few dollars and an old Army .45 in the glove department.

Maybe he should have just died in that sewer tunnel.

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange grinding sound in the wind, getting louder and louder.

"What in the name of..." he whispered to himself, grabbing his gun from the glove department.

The sound was almost next to him now, and the wind had picked up. A shape was beginning to appear in the cornfield, slowly fading into existence. A blue phone box...

Aiming his gun, Cole crept slowly towards it.

Suddenly, the wailing stopped, and the door opened. Cole's gun was now aimed at a man in a bowtie and tweed jacket, who was looking at bit surprised and raising his arms. There was a short silence.

"Well...not the first time I've had a gun in my face," he said at last.

"Who are you?" Cole demanded.

"I'm the Doctor," replied the man, matter-of-factly.

"Doctor who?"

"Not that question _again_," muttered the Doctor, "On to business! Are you Cole Phelps?"

Cole hesitated before nodding.

"Excellent!" grinned the Doctor, rubbing his hands together, "Third time's a charm! You won't believe how hard it is to find you; I accidentally landed in on a man in an orange suit – very rude man, didn't like my bowtie, can you believe that..."

"Wait," implored Cole, lowering his gun, "_What_ is going on?"

"Oh, right, landing in on you, yeah," nodded the Doctor, "I'm gathering up a gang!"

Cole raised his gun again.

"Not that kind of gang!" exclaimed the Doctor, throwing up his arms, "I mean like a group or...we don't have guns or anything, not a big fan of guns and...look, maybe you should just come in, I can explain on the way."

He walked back into the box.

"Explain? Explain what?" demanded Cole, following him inside, "This is just a..."

He froze.

He was standing in a large room with a strange looking console in the middle. It was certainly too big to fit inside the phone box.

"...it's bigger on the inside," he said, lamely.

"Yes, I know," nodded the Doctor, absently, "Can you shut the door? You're letting in a draught."

Slowly, Cole shut the door.

"I don't understand," he breathed.

"You will," shrugged the Doctor, "Anyway! Gang! I did this a while ago, got a bit of a taste for it..."

For the first time, Cole noticed three other people with the Doctor. All looked just as confused as he was.

"Everyone, Detective Cole Phelps, LAPD," introduced the Doctor, "Well, _ex-_LAPD, there were problems. Cole, this is Danielle – she prefers Dani..."

He motioned to a small, white-haired girl in a black-and-white jumpsuit. She waved somewhat nervously.

"...this is Timmy Turner – just ignore the funny backpack, I do..."

"'Sup," nodded a small boy with buckteeth and a pink hat. He had a pink backpack with a rolled up green sleeping bag on top and a little purple padlock on the zipper.

"...and that's Sandy Cheeks," finished the Doctor.

He pointed to an anthropomorphic squirrel in a bathing suit, who responded with a small grin and a "Howdy."

"...that's a squirrel," blurted Cole.

"And you're a specist," snapped the Doctor, "Anyway, now that everyone's here, let's not waste anymore time!"

He threw a lever and the room began to shake. Cole was thrown off his feet, landing on the metal floor with a crash. Grabbing a rail, he shook his head and made for the door.

"I can't deal with this right now," he groaned, "I have to..."

He threw open the doors.

He looked at the Earth, spinning in space before him. They were floating above the West Coast – above Los Angeles. He could see its lights on the darkened planet.

The Doctor walked up, putting a hand on Cole's shoulder.

"This is...this is science-fiction stuff," stammered Cole.

"Nah, this is the TARDIS," grinned the Doctor, "Besides, the good sci-fi doesn't come until the sixties."

Cole didn't reply, staring wide-eyed at his homeworld.

"There's a reason I picked you up, Cole."

"What?" quizzed Cole.

"You know what I do?" he asked, "I fly around time and space and save people. And right now, Cole Phelps, you're in pretty desperate need of saving."

"What're you offering me?" asked Cole.

"A purpose," replied the Doctor.

There was a short silence. Then Cole nodded and turned around.

"Alright, _Doctor_," he said, "I'll play along for now."

The Doctor grinned, shut the doors and ran back to the console.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, throwing another lever, "Now, I've got just the place in mind for a gang like this..."

The TARDIS stopped shaking, and the group headed for the door. The Doctor flung open the doors.

They were standing in front of a very large army of strange, armoured things in several colours, adorned with plunger-like things and what looked like lasers.

"_EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"_

"Oops...wrong planet," gulped the Doctor.

"You think?" demanded Timmy.

* * *

...oh dear.


	12. 12 10 12: Computer Problems

Another short one, due to the fact that is A) my brother's birthday and B) XCOM release day.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** It's Dalek-fighting hour! :D Thanks for reading.

**Movie-Brat:** Probably not Bond, but I _may_ revisit the Doctor. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Autobot-Outcast:** ...we shall see... Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Well, I'll have a think about it. Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** Nah, he just tends to save people he runs into - he doesn't bring people on the TARDIS because they need saving, Phelps is just an exception. Thanks!

* * *

**12/10/12: Computer Problems**

Spongebob was on his computer playing Tetris. He didn't know why he was playing Tetris, nor did he remember where he'd got a computer from, but the music was nice so who cared.

Suddenly, there was a beep, and a little notice came up to tell him he had an email.

"Huh," mused Spongebob, "I wonder who that could be?"

He clicked the notice, and the email came up.

_HELP. AM TRAPPED IN COMPUTER. COME OVER NOW. SC._

"Who's Skuh?" wondered Spongebob.

At that moment, another email arrived.

_SC = SANDY CHEEKS. PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NOT REALLY THAT STUPID._

Spongebob blinked.

"Well, that's odd," he said aloud, "Better call Jimmy, he's good with computers..."

* * *

"Fiddley Thing?" asked Jimmy, as he and Spongebob entered Sandy's lab.

_"Fiddley Thing,_" Sandy replied.

She was inside a large screen on the wall, with a great white void behind her. Her voice was carried through large speakers on the sides of the screen.

"I told you that thing was dangerous!" snapped Jimmy, "Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?"

_"I didn't call you here to snark at me, fudgehead,"_ retorted Sandy.

"You didn't call me all, Spongebob did!" reminded Jimmy.

"Can we do this later? After we've got Sandy out of there?" asked Spongebob.

"Right, right," nodded Jimmy, "Did you try the printer?"

_"Yeah, 'cause I'm _really _gonna fit through that thing,"_ deadpanned Sandy.

"Since when has the Fiddley Thing obeyed the laws of physics?"

Jimmy paused.

"Where is it, anyway?" he quizzed.

_"On the picnic table outside,"_ replied Sandy.

"Spongebob, go and get it," ordered Jimmy, "I'll see what I can do here."

Spongebob saluted and ran off.

"Okay," said Jimmy, walking over to the keyboard, "I'm gonna try emailing you between world – maybe the temporal disturbance will dislodge you from the computer."

"_You absolutely sure this'll work, Neutron? I don't..."_

"Send 'er off!" shouted Jimmy, slamming his finger on the send button.

* * *

Danny was looking at funny pictures of cats.

He clicked on another one, showing three cats looking up at the illusive 'ceiling cat'. He chuckled, and saved it to his hard drive.

At that moment, Sandy appeared in the middle of the picture.

"_Jimmy!_" she shouted _"I'm still in the darn computer!"_

She looked up.

_"Heh,"_ she chuckled, "_Ceiling cat."_

She promptly vanished.

Danny blinked.

"Wut."

* * *

Sandy reappeared on the lab computer.

"Still nothing?" quizzed Jimmy.

_"Well, I'm pretty sure I just saw ceiling cat..."_

"Gas Planet," cursed Jimmy, "Alright, new plan, we wait until Spongebob gets back with the Fiddley Thing."

He glanced at the keyboard again.

"Until then..."

"_I ain't likin' that glint in your eye, Jimmy..._"

* * *

"Okay guys, I found the Fiddley Thing!" exclaimed Spongebob, walking back into the room.

He froze.

"Uh...Jimmy? What did you do?"

Jimmy was standing innocently beneath the screen, on which an angry, green, bizarrely tall and strangely proportioned squirrel was shouting angrily in Portuguese from her mouth, which was now on her stomach.

"Oh, nothing I can't fix," he shrugged.

* * *

ALL HAIL CEILING CAT!


	13. 13 10 12: Shipwrecked in Terra Incognita

The terrible tale continues...

Review replies;

**Movie-Brat:** I did, but I probably won't be able to do what you asked. Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Note to self - look for that video. :P Thanks for reviewing!

**TweenisodeOrange:** As they do to me. :P Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** No, I haven't seen that one. :| Thanks very much!

* * *

**13/10/12: Shipwrecked in Terra Incognita**

_Batavia_ was disintegrating on the reef, and although they'd had their differences, Pelsaert and Jacobsz both realised that she had to be evacuated as soon as possible.

Luck would shine on them, however, for as the sun rose, Pelsaert caught glimpse of some islands – _Batavia_ had run aground right in the middle of an island group. Quickly, they began to unload passengers and supplies onto the nearest of them – by the end of the next day, the ship's passengers and crew were in three groups. 180 were on the island closest to the ship, 50 (including Pelsaert and Jacobsz) on a second, smaller island nearby, and 70 (including Cornelisz) still aboard the _Batavia._ Aboard the ship, chaos now reigned – drunken soldiers and sailors roamed the decks, raiding the officer's possessions and preventing either of the island-based groups from collection vital supplies.

It was not better on land. Both islands were barren, with no fresh water. Pelsaert had most of the ships supplies, but an attempt to resupply the larger group had been aborted after desperate survivors nearly swamped the only longboat. Thus, Pelsaert was forced to make a harsh decision – leave the remaining survivors, and attempt to sail the ship's remaining boats to Batavia...

* * *

Vlad sat at the stern of the longboat, looking back at the slowly vanishing islands and the collapsing wreck of his ship. His heart was heavy – he may not have been the most agreeable of men, but he cared for his crew and passengers, and hadn't wanted to leave. Moe and the sailors had convinced him it was necessary – but it didn't feel right.

"Sir?" quizzed a sailor, rowing in front of him, "Are you alright?"

"It would have been better to die with them then live with this guilt," sighed Vlad.

"Hey, if we make it to Batavia, we can send a ship back," snapped Moe, "Right now, we have ourselves to think about. We ain't outta the woods yet..."

With that, the islands disappeared over the horizon, and the boats began a long and treacherous journey across the Indian Ocean. There were not likely to survive...

* * *

With Pelsaert gone, the island survivors languished on. There was no water to be had, and ten died of thirst in the first four days. Only on their fifth day did a thunderstorm strike and enable them to catch water in salvaged sails.

The thunderstorm didn't help the disintegrating _Batavia_ though, and eventually her hull was ripped open and she came apart. Some sailors drowned, some more managed to make it ashore, but Cornelisz ended up clinging to the bowsprit for two days before this last fragment collapsed and he dropped into the sea.

He should have died, but instead he washed up on the island, ruffled but alive...

* * *

"Mr. Phantom!"

Phantom rolled over in the tent he was laid up in, still recovering from his time in the sea. A sailor had entered, looking enthused.

"What is it?" asked Phantom.

"Sir, supplies from the ship just washed up," replied the sailor, "Lads wanna know what we do with it."

"...and you're asking me?" quizzed Phantom.

"Of course, you're senior VOC official, you know," shrugged the sailor.

Phantom allowed himself a small grin.

"Gather it up and put it under guard," ordered Phantom, "Distribute supplies evenly, make it last."

"Aye sir!" saluted the sailor, running from the tent.

Phantom rolled over, grinning.

"So, I'm in command now," he whispered to himself, "Didn't even have to mutiny..."

* * *

"Why is there a bucket next to your tent, private?"

Tommy looked up from the skiff he was building (a lot of wood from _Batavia_ had washed up on the island). Mr. Phantom was standing above him, looking at the bucket next to his shelter.

"It's to gather water from the rain," replied Tommy, "You know how a lot of the water drips over the side? We're collecting that in the bucket."

"We?" quizzed Phantom.

"Oh, yeah, some of the other soldiers decided I was in charge," shrugged Tommy, "I can stand down if you want."

"No, no, we need people taking initiative, private," grinned Phantom, "Speaking of..."

He pointed out to a sea, to an island just visible in the distance.

"See that?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's High Land, isn't it?" replied Tommy.

"I want to send an expedition over to see if there's any food or water over there – our supplies can't last forever, you know," explained Phantom, "I think you're just the man to lead that expedition."

"I don't know," mused Tommy, "I'm not really a navigator or anything..."

"But people look up to you," replied Phantom, "You said it yourself. And on this far corner of the world, people succumb to hysteria unless they have leaders like you and I. You'd be helping them, private – you'd be helping _us_."

He pointed to the nearly-completed skiff.

"Besides!" he grinned, "You've already got a boat!"

Tommy thought for a moment.

"Alright, Mr. Phantom, sir," he nodded, "I'll light a flare if I find anything."

"Good, good!" exclaimed Phantom, "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"You and I are both officers now; we're equals," Phantom grinned, "So please...call me Dan."

* * *

Cornelisz' leadership gave the castaways on the island a chance to survive – supplies evenly distributed, and expeditions sent to the other islands to find food. He seemed a genuinely caring leader.

But this was all an act. Cornelisz still intended to carry out his mutiny and go pirate – if the VOC sent another ship, he intended to hijack it. Loyal men like Private Wiebbe Hayes were an obstacle, so he sent them to other barren-looking islands where they would hopefully die of thirst and hunger. It still wasn't enough – there were still ordinary sailors and passengers with no reason to give up everything and become pirates, and might warn a VOC ship of their intentions.

Much more disturbingly, Cornelisz' heretical beliefs were slowly beginning to assert themselves. He believed that, because God was incapable of evil, he could not allow any evil in his creations. Therefore, Cornelisz was only capable of doing good and God's will. And by that logic, God willed that half the population of the island had to die for Cornelisz' own sake.

It was this combination of treachery and warped morals that would give this island its name – Batavia's Graveyard...

* * *

Oh dear...


	14. 14 10 12: Customs

Look out! There's foreshadowing in this one!

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** Well, you'll be happy to know no-one ate anyone else on Batavia's Graveyard. Not that that makes what Cornelisz did any better, but still. Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Cornelisz was a nutter and a psychopath, so logic probably wouldn't have gotten through to him. :| Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** It's not actually Danny, it's his evil future self. :P I was trying to hide that in part one, though, so I think I did pretty well. :D Thanks for the review!

* * *

**14/10/12: Customs**

The customs agent was standing at his booth, waiting to inspect the hand luggage of those flying from JFK International to London Heathrow. It seemed like a good line of work – after bad experiences on bus services and the Ghan in Australia, he had decided to go and work somewhere _far away _from any potential mad scientists.

He had just passed through a businessman when a woman in a black dress and top hat and a red-headed teen walked up.

"Any hand luggage?" he asked.

"Of course," nodded the woman in a faint Russian accent, handing him a duffel bag.

"Passports?"

Both the woman and the teenager handed him their passports.

"Alright Athena, Ms. Fenton," nodded the customs agent, "I'm just gonna need to make sure there's nothing illegal in here, if you don't mind..."

"Go ahead," nodded Athena.

The customs agent unzipped the bag and immediately pulled out a large saw.

"...uh, ma'am," he said, "There is _no way_ you can take this on an international flight."

"Oh, calm down, it's not real," chuckled Athena, "It's a stage prop."

Cautiously, the customs agent ran his finger over the blade. It was indeed too blunt to harm anyone.

"...alright, I'll let it slide," he nodded.

He continued to ruffle through the bag. He suddenly felt something soft and fleshy. Curiously, he pulled it out.

"...oh sweet god," he blurted.

He was holding someone's right arm in his hands, severed perfectly (and strangely bloodlessly) at the shoulder.

"I'm calling security," he decided, reaching for the silent alarm.

"Please don't," replied Athena, "It isn't real – it's a spare."

"A spare _arm?"_ demanded the customs agent.

"Yes," nodded Athena.

Once again, the agent reached for the silent alarm.

"Hold it, sir!"

A man in a black suit ran up to them, holding a slip of paper.

"Sorry about this," he panted, "They have permission for that stuff, as you'll see here..."

He handed the slip to the customs agent.

"...so they represent the Magicians Guild," said the agent, hesitantly, "They have booked out the entire business-class cabin on a British Airways flight to London, and I should stand down and let them pass."

He shook his head.

"If my supervisor gets upset, I'm pinning it on you," he snapped, "Move along."

"Thank you, K," nodded Athena as she and Jazz moved onwards.

"What did she say your name was?" quizzed the customs agent.

"Nothing you need to worry about," replied the man, pulling out a strange, pen-like device.

* * *

"Who was that?" asked Jazz, taking her seat in the plane.

"Just a man from the MiB," replied Athena, absently, "They usually focus on aliens, but my guild has an agreement with them."

"And what guild is this?"

"The Magicians Guild," shrugged Athena, "A committee of the few 'true' magicians, dating back to the days of Arthur. There's less than ten left these days."

"Why so few?" quizzed Jazz.

"James I of England," said Athena, bitterly, "He set up the Witchfinder-Generals – an organisation dedicated to suppressing magic. They've been hunting us for centuries – by now, most of us have simply decided not to spread the gift, so that we may die out on our own terms."

"And you?"

Athena simply smiled sadly and sat down.

"I do not know whether I will stand or keep hiding in plain sight," she replied, "But do know that I will not let us die out..."

* * *

Wow, I made a Men in Black reference! Life=complete!


	15. 15 10 12: Enemy Unknown

It was inevitable I'd make an XCOM fic, really.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Damn it, I should've done that! Curse you, retrospect! D: I'll put him in another fic, how about that? Thanks for reading!

**Movie-Brat:** A _cockroach?_ Did she get better? (That's a Monty Python reference, don't reply to that. :D) Yeah, I could do that at some point. ;) Thanks for reviewing.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** He's like the Hans Moleman of these collections. :] Glad you liked it, thanks for the review!

**Autobot-Outcast:** Yeah, poor guys a true Butt Monkey. :P Thanks very much!

**Cartoonatic55:** Yep, there will be, guarantee it. ;) Also, yay MiB! Thanks!

* * *

**15/10/12: Enemy Unknown**

_June 2015 – Dimmsdale, California_

Timmy was walking home, whistling to himself. It was a bright and sunny afternoon, and the air was warm. His parents were home today (at least they _said_ they'd be home today – you never knew with them) which meant no Vicky. Crocker had been off on some fairy hunt, which meant the whole day was spent being 'supervised' by his cardboard cutout. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

As he neared his house, he passed a parked car. He stopped.

The car seemed to have been abandoned; the door open, the engine running and the radio on. In fact, Timmy noticed as he looked around, the street was strangely empty – perhaps there was something on?

_"...the President and the Mayor have both stated that there is no cause for alarm, the latter informing the people that, quote; 'Any reports of alien activity on Earth are simply the result of mass hysteria and should be taken with a grain of salt.' Despite this, several fighter jets have been seen over the county..."_

"What the..." quizzed Timmy.

Suddenly, a large spherical object soared over his head, and his world exploded.

* * *

Timmy opened his eyes and rubbed his aching head.

"Uh...what happened?" he groaned.

He sat up, and found himself in hell.

The houses around him were burning, and the sky had turned red. In the street, he could see an upturned M1A1 Abrams tank, its crew sprawled on the asphalt. An air raid siren wailed in the distance.

"Timmy! _Timmy!"_

Out of the smoke and fire, Timmy could see two figures rushing towards him. It was Chester and AJ – both were covered in bruises and Chester's nose was bleeding, but they were alive.

"What's going on?" demanded Timmy, getting to his feet.

"I don't know," replied Chester, "Aliens, I guess. We gotta get out of here..."

"Aliens? You mean those reports..."

"Real," nodded AJ, supporting Timmy on his shoulder, "Now come on, we gotta find shelter!"

"Wait, I need to get home," grunted Timmy, "I need to find..."

"We passed your house – they've levelled it!" snapped AJ, "We have to go _now!_"

He and Chester began to help Timmy down the street, hobbling in search of an intact house.

Before long, they reached a crossroads. A Harrier had come down here, the wrecked plane cratered in the middle of the intersection. Behind it were three aliens – strange, legless cyborgs with rockets attached to their backs and what looked like plasma pistols. Quickly, Timmy and his friends ducked behind a car to hide.

"Guys," whispered Chester, peeking out behind from behind the car, "Someone's out there."

It was Tad and Chad, both with their hands in the air. They looked awful – their expensive clothes torn to rags and covered in sores and bruises.

"We surrender," Tad breathed, "_We surrender!_ Please!"

One of the aliens rocked out of their cover, landing right next to the popular kids.

"What're you doing?" gulped Chad, "Y-you taking us in then?"

The alien aimed his gun at Tad and fired.

The boy was blown back three meters, landing on his back in on the tarmac. His stomach was now covered in burns – clearly, he was dead.

"No!' screeched Chad, "No! _NO!"_

He made a run for it, fleeing towards a wrecked SUV. Suddenly, a large, spider-like alien burst out from his intended cover. It blocked the boy, impaling him on one of his legs and smashing his body into the ground. Once there, it leant down and bit the body, before scurrying away to join the cyborgs.

At that moment, a shot rang out.

The spider was struck by a bolt of red light and ripped apart. The cyborgs reacted badly to this, rocketing into the air and into the cover of the wrecked SUV.

Five heavily armoured soldiers raced into the area, each of them carrying strange energy weapons. They quickly took cover among the wreckage and opened fire. A series of shots hit two of the three aliens, ripping them to shreds. The third managed to return fire, and one the soldiers was blown off his feet and killed. His comrades quickly downed the remaining alien, before edging towards Timmy's cover.

"X-Rays neutralised," one of them, a big man with an Argentine flag on his back, said, "Someone get these civvies to the Skyranger, ASAP."

"Copy that," nodded a second, an Englishman with a large sniper rifle, "See you on the other side, Sledge – keep the rooks alive."

'Sledge' nodded.

"The rest of you, watch that corpse – might have been a Chryssalid attack, we can't take any chances here."

"You, civs," ordered the Englishman, "You're with me!"

Timmy looked at Chester and AJ, who simply shrugged and followed on.

As they left, they heard a moaning sound. Timmy hazarded a look back – Chad's body had gotten up, and was now shambling towards the soldiers, who had opened fire.

"What the heck?" he breathed.

"Chryssalid zombie," grunted the Englishman, "Horrible way to go..."

They went through an alleyway and into a square, where a large VTOL aircraft was waiting, ramp down. The Englishman led them right to the ramp and ordered them aboard, setting himself up to cover the aircraft.

Inside the craft, Timmy noticed a few civilians, some of which he recognised – Crocker was physically restrained in the back, Tootie was sitting next to a visibly shaken Vicky, Mr. Birkenbake, Trixie and Veronica being looked over by a medic of some kind. Next to them, he noticed a couple and their baby – a green and pink haired couple with their strangely purple-looking baby...

"Guys!" exclaimed Timmy, running up to them, "You're alive!"

"Timmy!" cheered Cosmo and Wanda, scooping the boy up in the arms.

"...aren't those Timmy's fake parents?" whispered AJ.

"Eh, we'll just let it go for now," shrugged Chester.

"But wait," asked Timmy, as the hug ended, "What about mom and dad..."

Wanda looked at her feet.

"...they're gone, Timmy," she replied.

Timmy swallowed, but held back tears. He could cry when this was over – when he could be sure this wasn't all some horrible dream. For now, he sat down with his friends and waited.

He didn't wait long. About ten minutes later, Sledge hobbled out of the smoke, another soldier draped over his shoulder. He reached the aircraft and set the soldier down in one of the seats, before sitting down himself.

"Sledge?" quizzed the Englishman, "What happened to the rest of the..."

"Dead, Slim," sighed Sledge, "They're dead. The district's clear and we've got all survivors, let's get outta here."

The ramp lifted and Timmy felt the ship lift off. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, letting himself calm down.

"It's over," he said to himself, "It's all over."

_"This is Big Sky calling Central, all survivors on board, we're heading back."_

_"Roger that Big Sky – good job."_

* * *

Aliens! Freaking aliens!

EDIT: Oh, yeah, this week's word is 'stranded.'


	16. 16 10 12: Thomas Something Something

I was a bit hesitant to put this one up, but I decided to give it a go. On with the mockery!

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Nice. :D Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Phew, glad that worked. :] Thanks for reviewing!

**The Shadow Syndicate:** Too right, mate, too right. ;) Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** Mission Accomplished! :D Thanks very much!

* * *

**16/10/12: Thomas Something Something**

_Or; modern children's programming in a nutshell._

_Alternatively; how to totally misuse a classic, beloved series in about seven minutes._

All of the engines on Sodor love special specials/new friends/**beanie babies**. They make them chuff with cheer, weesh with whimsy and sometimes even wheelslip with wingding.

One morning, the Fat Controller arrived at Tidmouth Sheds.

"Thomas," he said, "You are to take a Special Special (Special?) of rubber duckies from Brendam Dock to Maron. It must be there by an arbitrary time limit."

Thomas was erupt with excitement.

"What are you so happy about?" demanded Duck, "You're _always_ taking Special Specials?"

No-one listened to him.

Thomas whooshed and weeshed over to Brendam Docks.

"I'm rushing and puffing and steaming along," he said, "When delivering duckies, I can do no wrong!"

(Everyone was too polite to tell him that he couldn't rhyme.)

Thomas arrived at Brendam Docks. There were lots of trucks (read; three) filled with rubber ducks. Thomas rolled up to the trucks when Salty/Rosie/**Charlie** arrived.

"Be careful, Thomas!" he said, "You..."

"I am always careful!" replied Thomas, failing completely to listen to another's concerns, "I am a really useful engine, not a smelly diesel!"

"I'm standing right here, you know," reminded BoCo.

No-one listened to him.

Thomas puffed and chuffed towards Maron.

"I'm rushing and puffing and steaming along," he said, "When delivering duckies, I can do no wrong!"

"THAT'S ROOOIHHHGGGGT," said Ferdinand.

Then, Thomas passed Percy.

"Hello Percy!" he said, "I'm taking a Special Special!"

"Again?!"

"Yes!" Thomas tooted, "I must deliver these rubber duckies to Maron!"

"What's a duckie?" asked Percy.

Thomas laughed and chuffed away, leaving Percy confused.

Thomas whizzed and whirred towards Maron.

"I'm rushing and puffing and steaming along," he said, "When delivering duckies, I can do no wrong!"

"Hello!" said Neville as he steamed past.

Thomas arrived at Maithwaite. James/**Edward**/Henry was taking The Children to a party.

"Hello, Thomas, what are you..." he began.

"Hello Edward!" said Thomas, "I'm taking a Special Special!"

"Oh, that's..."

"Yes!" Thomas tooted, "I must deliver these rubber duckies to Maron!"

Edward opened his mouth to speak again.

"I have to go now," interrupted Thomas, "Goodbye Edward!"

He puffed away, leaving Edward feeling quite miffed.

Thomas roared and rumbled towards Maron.

"I'm rushing and puffing and steaming along," he said, "When delivering duckies, I can do no wrong!"

At last, Thomas arrived at the Sodor Steamworks. Victor and Kevin were playing a friendly game of Ram The Heavy Dangerous Expensive Machinery At Each Other.

"Hello Victor and Kevin!" said Thomas, "I'm taking a Special Special!"

"How exciting!" cried Kevin, a little _too_ enthusiastically.

"Yes!" Thomas tooted, "I must deliver these rubber duckies to Maron!"

Victor and Kevin blinked.

"Maron?" quizzed Victor.

"Yes!" beamed Thomas.

"Maron is forty miles in the other direction."

Thomas WAS upset.

Thomas raced back the way he came. He felt depressed and disconsolate.

"I CAN'T rush and puff and steam along," he said, "When delivering duckies, I can do ONLY wrong!"

"Thomas, I have a headache, please stop," groaned Oliver.

No-one listened to him.

Finally, Thomas hooted and hissed as he entered Maron station. The Fat Controller was standing on the platform, waiting.

"I am sorry I am late, sir," groaned Thomas, "I went the wrong way. I was not really useful. I feel _very_ badly..."

"Thomas!" grinned the Fat Controller, "The rubber duckies weren't due until tomorrow!"

Thomas was very surprised. (So was everyone else.)

"But why did you tell me to deliver them today?" gasped Thomas.

"I just like messing with you, Thomas," replied the Fat Controller.

And everyone laughed.

Meanwhile, the audience had fallen asleep.

* * *

Don't know who half the newer characters in this are? Neither do we.


	17. 17 10 12: South Point

There's an alternate ending to this going up on my dA. I'm putting it there because I felt it didn't fit.

Please read the introduction in your best Richard Burton impression.

Now, review replies:

**Solid Sun:** Neither do I. :P Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** It's supposed to stupid, so I'm cool. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Autobot-Outcast:** F**k yeah sparkle sparkle sparkle! :D Thanks for the review.

**Cartoonatic55:** It's still running because _we're got to have moneh_, that's why. Also, in the original books, there was _one_ really bad diesel, unlike the TV series where DIESELS IS BAD KAY. Anyway, thanks very much.

* * *

**17/10/12: South Point**

The end of the world happened in thirty days.

It was not for lack of bravery on the part of its defenders, nor lack of resolve. They were simply more advanced, and they outnumbered the combined strength of human forces four-to-one.

On the first day, every city of over 1,500,000 souls that wasn't a capital was blasted into dust by their weapons. By day three, four billion souls had been extinguished. All that remained were the rural populations and the capital cities, now under siege.

Washington surrendered on day eight, after the defending marines were overrun. London surrendered the next day. The remaining capitals gave in shortly after, with the invaders occupying them – but strangely, they did little to the people in these cities, simply content to guard them...for now.

By day fourteen, the whole of North America and Europe had fallen. The vaunted Russian Army had cracked, the People's Liberation Army had been smashed to pieces and the Indian Army had fought to the death. The last human obstacles to the invaders were now gone; all the remained was terrain.

By day eighteen, 99% of the Earth's surface was under the invaders' control. Only the heart of Africa and the mountainous Andes and Himalayas remained unconquered, most likely due to their inaccessibility. The remaining human populations were under guards in their towns and villages (as well as their capitals), waiting to see what would happen to them.

On day twenty, massive starships began to land across the world – each as large as eight squared city blocks, and each shaped rather like the flying saucers of old science fiction. These landed in flat areas – the prairies of Kansas, the steppes of Russia, the Nullabor Plain – and their number was vaster then any naval fleet.

On that day, the remaining humans began to be transported by road, rail and air to the ships. Thousands were loaded onto each like cattle, and when they were filled they took to the skies, never to be seen again. On the thirtieth day, the last of these lifted off from Canada, and the human race was ended.

There was, however, one exception...

* * *

'Once upon a time...'

Perhaps the saddest four words there are.

Once upon a time, it was easy to do this (if you had the money.) You flew to Christchurch via Sydney, swapped to a domestic flight to Invercargill, drove 70km east and then walked the last twenty minutes to South Point (making sure it wasn't lambing season when the area was closed off).

Those days were long gone.

These days, it took a disintegrating Spectre Speeder several days to cross the seas to get here, occasionally having to stop on an island to give the poor, dying thing a rest. It had literally fallen apart upon arrival, but they were here now.

It was the southernmost point of New Zealand – they were at the end of the Earth.

Danny and Dani helped their sister out of the dead Spectre Speeder and onto the rocky surface. They hobbled past the rusting, illegible sign that had once proclaimed to all what this was and up to a point where the view of the ocean was unbroken.

"Put me down," Jazz wheezed.

Dani turned to her surrogate brother, who nodded. They let her down gently, Danny laying her head on his lap. All was silent, save for the waves of the nearby sea. None of them would say it, but they were here to wait for the end.

For Jazz Fenton was the last human on Earth, and she was dying.

It had been fifteen years since the invaders had come. For those fifteen years, all the half-ghosts and their sister had was each other. Rather than head in the Ghost Zone, Jazz had convinced them to stay on Earth – if they were the last people in the world, they may as well be the last ones to explore it.

Thus, they had made a record of the planet, armed only with an old camera, a few looted notebooks and the Spectre Speeder. The idea was to pass a record into the future – if any less hostile invaders came, they would receive a record of humanity and its creations.

It was pointless, Danny felt – mostly likely, it'd be thousands of years before anyone came to Earth, by which time nature would have destroyed all record of humanity's existence, even the one they were making – but he felt he had a duty to help his sister with it. He was, after all, the last protector of humanity, and she was the last of humanity.

But with the end of humanity came the end of hospitals and medical attention. Jazz's health had been collapsing for over a year now – she looked worn and emancipated, wracked with an illness Danny couldn't even identify. She had mere days left now – the end of humanity would therefore occur at the end of the earth.

It was quite fitting, really.

"It's nice, isn't it?" whispered Jazz.

"Yeah," nodded Danny, "Warmer than I expected."

Indeed, the sky was bright blue, the few clouds dotted on the horizon a fluffy white. Deep down, Danny hated it – it was supposed to rain when loved ones died, why was it so nice out?

"I think its coming, guys," said Jazz, suddenly.

"Think what's coming?" asked Dani, although she already knew.

Jazz reached her hand for her brother to take, which he did. He swallowed.

"So this is how the world ends, huh?" sighed Danny.

"Not with a bang, but with a whimper," Jazz nodded weakly.

She looked up at the sky.

"You ever wonder what happened to everyone else?" she whispered.

"No," replied Danny, slightly harshly, "I don't."

"What if..." wondered Jazz, "What if the aliens didn't kill them or experiment on them? What if they're still out..."

She coughed, and then shook her head.

"Who knows?" she mumbled, "Danny?"

"Yeah?" asked Danny, his eyes watering.

"I'll see you on the other side," Jazz wheezed, "Find me."

"I promise, Jazz," vowed Danny.

Jazz nodded, and sighed heavily.

"Guess this is the end," she whimpered.

She shut her eyes, and a few seconds later, Danny felt her hand go limp.

For a few minutes, he and Dani stood there without a word.

At last, Danny got up, wiping some stray tears.

"Dani," he ordered, "Get the shovel from the Spectre Speeder."

* * *

The sun was going down when he finished.

Smoothing out the dirt over the grave, Danny put down the shovel, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Danny?"

Danny turned. His cousin was holding a bit of the old sign, attached to a small, thick branch with some old tape. On it, she had burnt an epitaph.

Danny gave her a small smile, taking the makeshift marker and placing it upright on the grave.

"That's it then," he sighed, "That's it."

"What do we do now?" asked Dani.

"We head for the Ghost Zone," shrugged Danny, "It's all we've got left, ain't it?"

"Guess so," nodded Dani.

She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Remember," she said, "No matter what happens, we've got each other, right?"

"Yeah," nodded Danny, "Thanks Dani."

The two ghosts lifted off into the air, heading north. Once again, South Point was left alone...

All that remained was the sunset, the sea and a small grave with a simple epitaph.

_Here lies Jasmine Fenton, the last human._


	18. 18 10 12: My Brother Will Kill Me

Just a quick, lazy one today. My brother's a fan of what I'm mocking, hence the title.

**Movie-Brat:** Maybe... Thanks for reading.

**Cartoonatic55:** Yeah, sorry about that. Glad you liked it, though. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**TweenisodeOrange:** OMG you remember Duck! :D Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant: **Glad you liked it! I do like my darkfics. :P Thanks very much.

**Autobot-Outcast:** So you should...:) Thanks!

* * *

**18/10/12: My Brother Will Kill Me For This**

Sheldon Plankton was standing on his throne in his secret base on the moon, looking down on the Earth and watching its citizens go about their lives. Unfortunately, given the long distance between the Earth and Moon, he couldn't actually see anything.

"I should really get a magnifying glass," he muttered to himself.

He sighed heavily, and cupped his mouth his hand.

"Crocker! Get over here!"

The hunchbacked teacher traipsed into the room.

"_Oh my goodness!_" exclaimed Plankton, averting his eyes.

Crocker was clad in a samurai-like helmet, a bit of bronze armour covering his waist, knees and shoulders, gold paint...and nothing else, revealing his rather unattractive, hairless body.

"Yes, my lord?" said Crocker, bowing.

"Put some clothes on!" demanded Plankton, "You look like a shaved lemur!"

Crocker walked away, dejectedly. Plankton jumped off his throne and headed to the lab, deciding to speak with Professor Calamitous instead.

"Hey! Calamitous!" he barked, entering the lab, "You finished with that monster I wanted?"

He paused.

Calamitous was standing over an oven, wearing a chef's hat and oven mitts.

Plankton blinked.

"Wut."

"I'm making a monster," said Calamitous, matter-of-factly.

"...in an oven."

"Yes."

"...riiight," nodded Plankton, "I'm gonna go lie down. When you're finished...eh, you know what to do."

With that, he walked away.

* * *

"Guys, we've got a problem," said Jimmy.

"Is it about your head?" asked Timmy.

He, Danny, Spongebob, Sandy and Sam were gathered in Jimmy's lab. Jimmy's head was, for some reason, in a tube.

"I already explained about that, Turner," snapped Jimmy, "It's because..."

"Yeah, yeah," shrugged Sam, "What's going on?"

"The Syndicate just sent someone to attack Retroville Park," explained Jimmy, "Here, watch."

The VOX screen turned on, showing a picture of Retroville Park. The denizens of Retroville were running in fear from Technus – even though he wasn't attacking anything, just shouting loudly.

"Ha ha!" he exclaimed, "I, Technus, Master of Technology, am now in control of this puny town! Fear my electronic wrath!"

The screen turned off again.

"He's the Master of Technology...so he attacked a park?" quizzed Sam.

"Yeah, I don't get it either," agreed Jimmy, "Anyway, I wanted you guys to test an invention of mine – this looks like the perfect time to do that."

Five small devices dropped from the ceiling. Timmy grabbed one, looking it over.

"...a novelty coin inside a toy digivice?"

"Just use it, Turner," groaned Jimmy.

"Okay," shrugged Timmy, "Do we read the cue cards on the back, too?"

"...yes."

"Great," said Timmy, "Let's do this."

They activated the devices.

"QUOTH THE RAVEN!" yelled Sam.

"I'M READY!" yelled Spongebob.

"TEXAS!" yelled Sandy.

"GOING GHOST!" yelled Danny.

"INTERNET!" yelled Timmy.

Suddenly, they were standing in the park wearing colourful jumpsuits. Just as suddenly, a random truck full of military munitions exploded behind them.

"Well, that was weird," shrugged Danny.

"Hey!" demanded Spongebob, looking at his arm, "Why is my jumpsuit pink?"

"Eh, who cares?" shrugged Sam, "Let's go find Technus..."

It didn't take long for them to find the ghost, given that the park wasn't very big, and that Technus was shouting to all who would listen to him.

"Aha!" he thundered, "Nicktoons! You have finally..."

He blinked.

"What's with the get-up? Is it Mardi Gras?" he quizzed.

"Let's just get this over with," sighed Timmy.

* * *

What followed was a variety of kicking and punching in the kung-fu style, with the occasional random bursts of sparks upon making contact. Eventually, however, Technus was knocked onto his back – where he promptly exploded.

Plankton (having finally located a strong magnifying glass) saw this defeat, and was quite miffed. He throw a 'growth stick' to Earth, missing the first three times and growing a polar bear, a fly and Nick Clegg before hitting the crater Technus was lying in.

In response, Jimmy deployed his next secret weapon...

* * *

"Yes, after thirty six weeks, we have finally completed this new apartment building," exclaimed the construction manager to the new apartment's residents, "We have built it from the finest materials, and we are sure it will last as long as our residents live...aaaaaaaaaaaaand it just got destroyed by a giant robot. Well, I hope you were all insured..."

* * *

Did you guess what I was parodying?

You're quite right - it's Pokemon.


	19. 19 10 12: Monsters in the Darkness

You know what this collection is missing? Zombies.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** Yay! I spread Linkara to someone! :D 100% success rate! Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55: **Yeah, it's Power Rangers. ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**Guest:** I could do a parody of that, one day... Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Probably should've made it a bit more obvious, but oh well. XD Thanks very much!

* * *

**19/10/12: Monsters in the Darkness**

Major Jack Lowe extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk and passed the Military Policeman a withering look. The MP shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry, sir," the MP said, "Command wants us to look into it."

"Just bring him in," grunted Lowe.

The MP saluted and left the office.

Lowe reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a file, pulling out a printed document to study.

_UNITED STATES ARMY SENSITIVE HAZARD CONTAINMENT CORPS – OPERATION IDAHO_

_City henceforth divided into sectors ABLE, BAKER, CHARLIE, DOG and EASY. SHCC units to contain CHARLIE and DOG to prevent entry or exit of these areas. 1__st__ and 2__nd__ IBCT (1__st__ Infantry Div.) will patrol ABLE, BAKER and EASY in conjunction with local law enforcement._

_NO SHCC OR 1__ST__ ID UNITS ARE TO ENTER CHARLIE AND DOG SECTORS AT ANY TIME._

_Lieutenant-General Adrian Walker has been placed in command of IDAHO and given executive powers by the Pentagon._

The door opened and the MP returned with his charge – a recently captured containment escapee, Tucker Foley.

"Thank you, Corporal," nodded Lowe, "Dismissed."

The MP saluted and left, closing the door behind him.

"Take a seat," said Lowe, pointing to the chair in front of the desk.

Nervously, Tucker sat down.

"Water?" asked Lowe.

Tucker nodded, and the Major grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler by his desk. He handed it to the teen.

"First things first," began Lowe, "You're not in trouble."

"I'm not?" quizzed Tucker.

"Far from it," nodded Lowe, "I just need you to tell me everything you know about what's going on in the infected zones, and then I can get the MPs to take you into a protection facility. General Walker doesn't have to know anything."

"You mean you don't know?" demanded Tucker, "But if the soldiers aren't yours..."

_Soldiers? Ah, f**k,_ thought Lowe.

"As far as I'm aware, only the SHCC and the 1st Infantry are operating in the city," he replied, "Neither of them is operating in the infected zones."

Tucker didn't look convinced. Lowe sighed.

"Son, tell me what happened when the infection began..."

* * *

_It had started in a small apartment in Midtown. A middle-aged man woke up with what seemed to be a bad case of the flu, and his wife stayed home from work to care for him. Not the sort of thing that would cause a panic._

_Except the man didn't get better. By the end of the day, his wife was sick too, and their neighbours. The first infectee had developed sickly green, pussy sores on his arms, legs and stomach. An ambulance was called. The paramedics looked the man all over and came to the same conclusion – this was a new disease and it was highly infectious. Quarantine was set up._

_Unfortunately, despite the efforts the paramedics went to ensure they didn't contract the infection, every one of them caught the disease. They spread it back to their hospital, and hospital staff took it to their homes. In three days, most of Midtown had come down with the hideous new illness. Immediately, the Mayor and the council declared a state of emergency. The whole district was cordoned off._

_Unfortunately, it didn't get any better. In fact, it got worse. The infectees became violent, and a mob of angry, wailing infectees attacked a police cordon...which, of course, spread the infection to the policemen._

_After two weeks, the police, National Guard and arriving Army units managed to contain the infection to the Midtown and Downtown areas of the city. General Adrian Walker took command of the situation..._

* * *

"...so, around this time, the infected districts are warzones between the infected and paranoid civilians with shotguns," Lowe nodded, "Outside, we hear what sounds like a running battle for three days – then nothing. That's when the dead districts become...well..._dead._ How did you survive?"

"My friend, Sam," replied Tucker, "She let us hide in her basement. Her parents were minted – I think they're in LA at the moment – so we had enough supplies to last out the infection. We barricaded the door and waited."

"But you obviously left," noted Lowe, "You had a good shelter – what happened?"

"Soldiers," growled Tucker.

* * *

_"Romeo-Actual, we are converging on the uninfected survivors. Orders, over?"_

_"Copy, Romeo 2-4, you are cleared to sweep the basement, CQB conditions apply, leave no survivors, over."_

_A door kicked. Some of the house staff screams – a shotgun barks._

_"Guys, get outta here!"_

_"Danny, no, I'm not leaving you!"_

_"Sam, if you stay here you die! I'll catch you up, I promise."_

_"Danny, no..."_

_"Sam...I lo-"_

_Two more hellish barks. The door falls. A distorted mumble._

_"Tangos spotted."_

_The boy raises his arm a second too late. A pistol cracks – the girl falls. A blast of green, and the soldiers are knocked down._

_"Sam! _SAM!_"_

_"Danny, we have to go..."_

_"Wake up, Sam, come on, you have to survive, you have to..."_

_"Danny! She is _dead! _Now run!"_

_The boy looks at the stirring soldiers – a flash of red, a powerful green blast and the beeping of a heart monitor – a snarl of rage._

_"I swear, Tuck – I'm going to kill every last one of these animals..."_

* * *

"...soldiers using US Army weapons and jargon," mused Lowe, scratching his chin, "But with black uniforms and gas masks. That doesn't bode well – did you get any unit ID?"

"No," replied Tucker, bitterly, "I was too busy trying not to get shot."

"Of course, sorry," nodded Lowe, "This is vital to piecing this together, you understand. If you can describe them, I can try to match them with existing units – they might be Company men or something."

"I did manage to get a photo on my PDA, but I don't think its clear enough to help," suggested Tucker, pulling a battered PDA from his pocket.

Lowe took the PDA and stared at the image on screen.

"This isn't what I think it is, is it?" he breathed.

"Yeah," nodded Tucker, "It is..."

* * *

_Survivors in the infected zone feared them more then the infectees._

_They were men in black uniforms and face-concealing gas masks, armed with shotguns and submachine guns for close quarters encounters. They were highly efficient at combating the infection – and the surviving civilians._

_Most were killed. Some were captured and taken to futuristic stealth helicopters, never to be seen again. Unlike the evil black-ops of fiction, they never revelled in their task – in fact, they rarely spoke at all. They were serious and efficient, and that made them all the more terrifying._

_Every now and then, they'd encounter a building that was too overrun to clear conventionally without severe casualties. In those cases, they brought out their trump card – white phosphorus or 'Willy Pete'. Fired from a distance, these mortars burnt everything they touched – be it the infected or any survivors unlucky enough to get in the way..._

* * *

"Willy Pete," hissed Lowe, "On civilian targets. _Animals_."

He shook his head, and studied the image closer. There were three men – one loading, one firing, one aiming. They had an insignia patch on the shoulder, but the Major couldn't make it out.

"Did you have any other close encounters with these troops?" he asked.

"Yeah," nodded Tucker, "We were looking for a sewer entrance – we heard those aren't patrolled..."

"They're not," confirmed Lowe, "We don't have the manpower to be everywhere."

"Yeah," said Tucker, "There were three of us – me, Danny and Val. We ran into a manhole – problem was, a squad of them were patrolling the street..."

* * *

_"Tangos spotted! They're armed and hostile!"_

_Tucker ducks behind a wall. Danny and Valerie return fire – waves of ectoplasma down two of the six soldiers._

_A rattle of death. Blood pours from the shoulder – the Red Huntress falls, clutching at the bleeding wound._

_"Somebody get a bandage!"_

_"Little busy, Tuck!"_

_Suddenly, they hear groaning. Figures shuffle out of an apartment – faces and bodies distorted by oozing green spores. Infected._

_"Tangos on the flank!"_

_"I see them, firing."_

_Shotguns bark. For a moment, the group is relieved of pressure. Danny grabs Tucker's shoulders – his face is like stone._

_"Run, Tucker."_

_"But Danny, I..."_

_"_Run._"_

_He shoves Tucker into the manhole._

_Bang. His head hurts – must have landed on something hard. His vision is blurry – vomit threatens to spill from his mouth. He hears a horrible grinding noise – the sound of a machine gun._

_He forces himself to run. He trips, falls face first in the sewerage. He crawls into the darkness of the tunnels – he crawls on, and on, and on, until he can see light._

_He falls out of a tunnel, painfully hitting concrete. He hears a cry. Men in camouflage uniforms are running towards him, but his vision is fading._

_He shuts his eyes._

* * *

"...and then I woke up in this place," shrugged Tucker.

Lowe nodded.

"Sounds like you went through hell, kid," he said, sympathetically, "I don't wanna ask too much of you right now, but Command thinks something fishy's going on in the infected zones, and now I'm inclined to agree. I'm gonna have to ask you to sign a witness statement."

"Fine," agreed Tucker, "Just one thing."

He looked over to the door, as if making sure no-one was there.

"The infection isn't spreading anymore," he whispered, "It stopped after the first two weeks. These soldiers aren't here to clean out the infected – they've gotta be doing something else..."

"Pretty damning statement, son," replied Lowe, "What would they want in a dead zone?"

"I don't know," admitted Tucker, "And that's what scares me..."

* * *

Ah, evil Black Ops Units. They're so fun to hate.


	20. 20 10 12: Magicians 101

Or; everything you didn't need to know about magic but are going to learn anyway because this magician took a shining to you.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** It's End Times all over again! D: Thanks for reading.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Actually, they're based on Blackwatch from Prototype, though I can see why you'd think that. :) Also, I came up with the phonetic designations after playing WWII games; seems I accidentally channeled that into the fic - we'll just say the police got to name them. :P Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55:** I do a lot of these plot bunnies, don't I? :] Thanks for the review!

**Autobot-Outcast:** Pity I can't make them _all_ into series, really. Thanks very much!

* * *

**20/10/12: Magicians 101**

"I don't get why Danny can't do this himself," grunted Timmy.

"You heard him," shrugged Dani, "He had to go to Boston. Because it got attacked. By ghost minutemen."

"Kind of ironic, really," nodded Spongebob.

They, Sandy, Cosmo and Wanda were sitting in Timmy's room. Danny had asked them to research magicians like Athena – just in case, you understand. He had intended to help, but there had been a ghost attack and he'd had to leave.

"Okay," sighed Timmy, "I wish we had a book on Magicians."

Cosmo and Wanda raised their wands – and a gigantic book appeared in front of them.

Timmy blinked.

"Uh, Timmy?" asked Wanda, "Are you okay?"

"_Why..._"

* * *

"Why are we in Scotland?" asked Jazz.

"The Highlands are the most magically fertile lands on the Earth," replied Athena.

The two were standing in the middle of a valley, the great, bare mountains of the Scottish Highlands surrounding them. The weather was fine, with a cool breeze drifting through the valley. Not far in the distance was an old stone circle, illuminated by the afternoon sun. It was all very peaceful.

"I was going to take you to North Wales," Athena added, "But your brother already went there, didn't he?"

"Yeah, that thing with the dragon," nodded Jazz, "Jones, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Athena.

She looked towards the stone circle.

"These places were where we were born," she explained, "Far away from the centres of civilization, on the edges of the known world. We inhabited a land that not even the vaunted legions of Rome could tame, in places where the local tribes could never quite track us. We lived and loved in peace..."

She looked Jazz in the eyes.

"These places are where we were born – and these places are where we died."

"What happened?" asked Jazz.

"Edward I and his descendants chased us from Wales in the 1300s," replied Athena, grimly, "But our power wasn't truly broken until James I set up the Witchfinder-Generals. We fought them – we fought so hard, but our enemies had infiltrated every part of society. We simply could not win."

She shook her head.

"But we're still here," she snapped, "And we _will_ survive."

Suddenly, she grinned.

"Well, enough procrastinating, it's time for training."

* * *

"...and in 1330, something something, Cayenarfon Castle..." grumbled Timmy.

"That's says _Caernarfon_," corrected Sandy, "Can-ar-fon..."

"Yeah, whatever," grunted Timmy, "Do I look Scottish to you?"

"_Welsh_," corrected Wanda.

Timmy groaned loudly and buried his head in his hands.

"Why couldn't this book into a comic?" he demanded.

"Sorry, it's one of those big ol' magic books," shrugged Cosmo, "We shouldn't even be letting you _look_ at this!"

"Can we at least find something interesting in there?" moaned Timmy.

Dani flipped to the index page.

"There's a page on Witch Hunters," she pointed.

"Hey, that sounds pretty awesome!" Timmy perked up, "Let's read that!"

Dani flipped to page 10492, the start of the chapter on Witch Hunters.

"The Witchfinder-Generals were formed by King James I in 1607," she began, "These men were directly under the authority of the King, and they were tasked with protecting 'order, reason and piety within the realms of England and Scotland...'"

* * *

"In order to warp the world around you, you must first be able to warp yourself," explained Athena, "For example."

She tugged at her arm – it immediately popped off at the shoulder, revealing nothing but skin underneath.

"...wait, you want me to do that?" quizzed Jazz.

"No, that's probably too big to start with," replied Athena, "Let's start simple – try your left hand."

"_That's_ simple?"

"Comparatively," shrugged Athena, lazily using her detached arm as a makeshift weight, "Now, I want you to grab your hand."

Jazz did so, hesitantly.

"Now, concentrate," ordered Athena, "Focus on removing your hand from your body, and then pull."

Jazz scrunched up her eyes, breathed in...and pulled.

There was a dim crack, but the hand remained attached.

"Well," she shrugged, "I cracked my joint."

"You're trying too hard," said Athena, popping her arm back on, "Straining against a limit that isn't there. Magic isn't about pushing the limits; it's about rejecting them entirely."

"So...I'm just supposed to forget the laws of physics and reality?" demanded Jazz.

"Yes."

"But that's impossible!" Jazz protested, "Those are the laws that keep the universe together – we can't just..."

Athena strode over to her, grabbed the side of her mouth – and literally peeled it off.

"Can't we?" she asked, wryly.

Jazz put a hand to where her mouth had been in shock. There was nothing there but skin, with flat bone underneath. She couldn't feel her tongue or teeth – it was as if she'd never had a mouth at all.

"Now," said Athena, fiddling with Jazz's mouth in her fingers as if it was a little piece of wrapping paper, "Try it again. Pull gently, don't yank – convince yourself that it's possible."

Jazz swallowed (or tried to – turns out, that's rather hard if one has no mouth) and shut her eyes. She grabbed her arm again and gave a gentle tug.

There was a sound like the popping of bubble wrap, and Jazz's arm felt very strange. She opened her eyes.

She was holding her detached left hand in her right. Her eyes widened.

Still able to feel her hand despite the nerves being split, she slowly clenched her fingers. It was totally, utterly impossible, her mind told her, and yet it was happened.

"Good work," grinned Athena, "Here is your reward."

She slapped Jazz's mouth back on.

"This...what...di-did I just do that?!" exclaimed Jazz, the very moment she regained the use of her mouth.

"Yes," nodded Athena, "You did."

The wind suddenly picked up, beginning to swirl around Jazz. For a few seconds, she felt a strange tingle all over her body – then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

"What was that?"

"In the old days, we initiated new magicians in lands where the magic was fertile," explained Athena, smiling, "Once they opened themselves up, the magic would spread into them, and they would be given our gift. Remember what I said, Jazz?"

Jazz nodded, returning Athena's smile.

"This is where we are born," she nodded.

* * *

"...the power of the Witchfinder-Generals waned with those of James I's descendants," read Wanda, "Most believe they were destroyed at the Battle of Culloden, where James' descendant, Charles Edward Stuart, was finally defeated by the Hanoverian kings."

"So they're all gone?" mused Dani, "That was a waste of two hours."

"Hold on, there's something fishy here," said Sandy, suspiciously, "Look, in that picture..."

All eyes turned to a picture of a Witchfinder-General, dressed in fairly typical 1600s fashion and looking almost like a Puritan. The background of the sketch was mostly white – save for a tiny black smudge that looked almost like illegible text.

"Guys, I wish we had a microscope," said Timmy.

With a poof of pink smoke, a microscope appeared. Dani grabbed it and began to focus on the strange smudge.

"Be warned – we cannot be stopped," she read, "We control the governments and the peoples – we will cleanse the earth of chaos and witchcraft. Signed in the year..."

Her eyes went wide.

"This message was two years ago," she breathed.

There was a long silence, as the group processed the ramifications of the message.

"Call Danny," snapped Dani, "_Now_."

Timmy pulled out his recaller and dialled quickly. Dani pulled out her own phone and speed dialled Jazz' number.

"_We're sorry – the number you have dialled is incomplete or incorrect. Please check the number and dial again..."_

* * *

There was a rapping on the door, and the Headmaster of the College got up from his fine oak desk to answer it.

There were three men at the door, all wearing plain but impeccable three-piece suits, all clean-shaven and all wearing dour expressions.

"Hello," said one, "I'm Mr. Stuart. My fellows are Mr. Cromwell and Mr. Preston. We need to see your student roster."

"What on Earth for?" quizzed the Headmaster.

Mr. Stuart allowed himself a small grin. It was at that moment that the Headmaster noticed how empty the outside corridor was.

"We are the Witchfinder-Generals. We are here about Jasmine Fenton."

* * *

Mood Whiplash FTW!

Like 'Down the Mine', this is more light-hearted then comedy, but ah well. Well, except the ending.

One more note: the Witchfinder-Generals' names are based on the English Civil War. Stuart and Cromwell are pretty obvious, but can you guess what Preston's name after?


	21. 21 10 12: Massacre and Miracle

The final part of the _Batavia_ trilogy.

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** It's cool, I understand if you couldn't review for any reason. :) Glad you like 'em! Thanks for reading.

**Cartoonatic55:** That's alright, it's a bit obscure anyway. :P Thanks for reviewing.

**TweenisodeOrange:** Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine [/tempting fate]. Thanks for the review.

**Autobot-Outcast:** The Battle of Preston, yeah. It was a _bit_ of a curbstomp. Thanks very much!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Oh, Jones is coming back alright. :D Thanks!

* * *

**21/10/12: Massacre and Miracle**

With Pelsaert, the VOC's officers and Wiebbe Hayes gone, Cornelisz could now show his true colours. He gathered up about two dozen supporters and had them swear an oath of allegiance to him, making these mutineers the rulers of Batavia's Graveyard.

The first to die was a man suspected of stealing wine, followed by two carpenters believed to have planned to steal one of the homemade skiffs. This was accepted without fuss – firm but fair, a way of keeping order on the island.

Another group was taken on the skiffs under the pretence that they were to aid Hayes in his search for water. In actually, this group was bound in ropes and thrown into the sea as soon as it was out of sight of the island. Again, this was discreet enough to cause little suspicion.

One day, however, everything changed. The smoke of a signal fire could be seen on the horizon – Wiebbe Hayes had found water.

The survivors Cornelisz had attempted to maroon on the other islands now began to make their way to Hayes' position, having realised that the mutineers had, quite literally, left them out to dry. Cornelisz acted, his mutineers capturing one of the boats and bringing its passengers back to Batavia's Graveyard. There, Cornelisz gave the order – 'kill.'

The massacre had truly begun...

* * *

"We need experienced soldiers like you," Dan grinned.

Private Jimmy Neutron nodded slowly, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. Ever since the boat captives had been killed, Dan and his men had become much more..._harsh_ in their dominion of Batavia's Graveyard. Several people had joined him out of fear – he, however, had not sworn loyalty. Now, he had been invited to dine in Dan's tent, but he didn't know why.

"Order on Batavia's Graveyard must be maintained," continued Dan, "And men like you are just the people to maintain it."

"Um...thanks, Mr. Phantom, but I don't think..."

"Sir."

A soldier had entered the tent – he seemed to be covered in blood. Perhaps he'd been hunting the island's sea lions, Jimmy considered.

Dan nodded to the man.

"Deed's done, sir," said the man, handing him a small box.

"Ah, thank you," nodded Dan, taking it, "Something for you, Mr. Neutron."

Slowly, Jimmy took the box and opened it.

"_...no_."

"Yes," replied Dan, serenely, "That is the head of Mr. Wheezer. I am prepared to give similar orders to dispatch your friend Ms. Vortex as well – so make sure you think about this offer carefully."

He leant in, a downright vile smirk on his face.

"Will you swear an oath of loyalty to me?" he hissed.

* * *

This was not a rare trick. On one occasion, a soldier named Hans Harden and his wife were invited to dine with Cornelisz – while they did, their eight-year-old daughter was strangled. On another, a preacher named Gijsbert Bastiaensz and his eldest daughter dined with him; Bastiaensz' wife and seven other children were murdered and dumped in an unmarked grave. Both swore an oath of loyalty to protect those they had left.

Mutineers wandered the island, killing at random. Many of the female passengers were forced to become the wives of the mutineers. An expedition was even sent to murder those who were left on the desert islands nearby.

Before long, of the initial 180 castaways, there were just seventy people left on Batavia's Graveyard, half of these mutineers.

Now, Cornelisz' attention turned to Wiebbe Hayes...

* * *

"They ain't coming, are they?" said Arnold.

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," muttered Tommy.

The group had been waiting for Dan to arrive for days – but by now, it was evident that he wasn't coming. Furthermore, several men and woman had managed to get over here from Batavia's Graveyard and the other islands – the stories they told were very disturbing.

"Alright men, I think we've got a good idea of what's happening here," said Tommy, "If Phantom's really killing everyone over there, then he'll come for us next. We need a defence."

"And how do we do that?" demanded Arnold, "They have all the weapons!"

"Then we _make_ weapons," replied Tommy, "Arnold, take your men and gather up any wood or coral you can find. The rest of you – find rocks. We're building a fort."

* * *

Wiebbe Hayes' fort was the first structure built by Europeans on Australian soil.

Hayes was a good soldier – he positioned his defences against a series of mudflats, which was the most likely area Cornelisz would use to attack.

For a while, nothing happened. But eventually, the mutineers launched two attacks, both of which were driven off. After this, Cornelisz tried a different tactic...

* * *

"Sir, Phantom's here – he's under flag of truce."

"Truce?"

Tommy climbed out of the fort, making his way over to the mudflats. Sure enough, Dan and four others were waiting, along with a skiff full of supplies like blankets, shoes and other things Tommy's group didn't have. His own men were gathered around, hesitantly looking through the supplies.

"What is he doing?" Tommy muttered, striding over.

As he approached, he heard one of Dan's men whispering.

"...and if you dump Pickles, there's more where this came from. Just gut him and come with us..."

"What is going on?!" shouted Tommy.

"Well," said Dan to the soldiers, grinning, "Here's your chance – do you want wealth? Do you want luxuries? Prove it."

The men looked among each other, and then to Tommy.

Arnold grinned and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phantom," he said, "But I'm afraid you've just given us a much better prize."

With that, they picked up their wooden spears and pointed them at the mutineer leader.

"Bad move," hissed Dan, "I have supports – I'll be freed in a week."

* * *

Cornelisz had a good reason to be confident – the mutineers had managed to salvage some cannons from the _Batavia_'s wreck. Not long after Cornelisz was captured, another attack was launched, this time supported by artillery fire...

* * *

Tommy cringed as another projectile hit the fort, shrapnel flying all over. He had lost five men, one fatally – the mutineers were advancing, and for once, they had the advantage.

"Is this it?" shouted Arnold, as another projectile just missed his head.

Tommy sighed.

"Looks like it," he nodded, "At least we can go down fighting..."

Arnold nodded, and looked over the wall.

He froze.

"Arnold?" demanded Tommy, "What are you doing? Put your head down, now!"

"Look," whispered Arnold.

Tommy looked hesitantly into the distance. His heart missed a beat.

And then someone gave the cry.

"_Sail on the horizon!_"

* * *

It was the _Sardam_, a rescue ship sent from Batavia to find the survivors. She was a fully crewed and armed ship of the VOC, and as for her commander...

"Helmsman," ordered Vlad, "Take us in."

"Aye aye, sir," nodded the Helmsman, spinning the wheel.

Vlad walked over to the port railing, studying the islands. He hoped he was not too late, that there was someone left to save, that – wait – were those boats?

"...what in the name of?"

The first boat rowed into hearing range, the skipper standing up and cupping his mouth.

"_Mutiny! There's been a mutiny! They're going to take the ship!"_

Vlad grabbed his periscope, looking over the two boats heading towards him. One was full of ragged, wild-looking soldiers – the other full of ragged, wild-looking men who seemed to have looted the clothes of officers and gentlemen.

"Aim for the second boat," he barked.

"Yes sir!"

The gunners of the _Sardam_ shifted her cannons, aiming at the mutineers' boat. A man began to shout, ordering their immediate surrender. There was a brief, tense silence.

Then the mutineers began to throw their weapons overboard. They had given up.

The nightmare was over.

* * *

The rest, as they say, is history.

Jeronimus Cornelisz confessed to his crimes, albeit under water torture. He and about seven others were hanged in Houtman's Abrolhos, but not before his hands were cut off with a hammer and chisel. A few more men were marooned, and still more were keelhauled – dragged under the hull of the ship by rope, an agonizing way to die. For the rest, a grim fate awaited them in Batavia; punishments included torture, mutilation or prison.

Ariaen Jacobsz was imprisoned and tortured – after this, he vanishes from all historical record.

Francisco Pelsaert ended his life in disgrace, blamed for the loss of _Batavia_ and for causing a mutiny. He was sacked and his property confiscated by the VOC – he died eleven months after the survivors were rescued.

Wiebbe Hayes was promoted and became a Dutch national hero. Pelsaert promoted him to Sergeant as soon as he was rescued, and he was quickly promoted to Lieutenant by a grateful VOC. After this, he vanishes from historical record – an unsung but certainly a true hero.

Wiebbe Hayes' fort survives. It can be found on what is now known as East Wallabi Island.

The wreck of the _Batavia_ was found in 1963, and artefacts from her can be found in the Western Australian Museum in Fremantle. A replica was constructed in 1995, and can be visited in Lelystad in the Netherlands.

Of all the 341 crew and passengers of the _Batavia_, just 68 survived.

* * *

Am I the only one who feels sorry for Pelsaert?

Oh, and just in case I forget tomorrow, the next word for the contest is 'Horizon'. Last week's word has been put on the 'Enemy Unknown' chapter, in case you missed that. And yeah, they are all maritime related. =P


	22. 22 10 12: Bizzare Nonsequitors

With thanks to Autobot-Outcast for assistance with this shot.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** I know, he's a personal idol of mine. :) Thanks for reading.

**Cartoonatic55:** Interestometer is up 12% - can't wait to see what you've done. :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant: **I guess that's the main thing, really. :| Thanks for the review.

* * *

**22/10/12: Bizarre Nonsequitors**

_Unidentified Flying Con  
Somewhere, Somewhere  
Next week, Maybe_

"My donut tastes friendly," said Cosmo.

He, Timmy, Poof and Wanda were sitting in a café outside the Unidentified Flying Con, which was taking place on an airship in the middle of nowhere.

"How does a donut taste friendly?" quizzed Wanda.

"Yeah, mine tastes bitter and world-weary," added Timmy, looking at his donut. The donut shook its fist at him.

Timmy shrugged, and put it down.

"Anyway," he said, "Cosplay! I wish we had our costumes on!"

There was a poof of smoke. When it cleared, he was dressed in a red cap and shirt, with jeans, hand wraps, headphones and a baseball bat. Poof was dressed in a little halo and wings, and Cosmo and Wanda were...dressed normally.

"Uh, guys," reminded Timmy, "You're supposed to be..."

"Oh, we are!" said Cosmo, in Wanda's voice, "I'm going as Cosmo!"

"And I'm going as Wanda!" exclaimed Wanda, in Cosmo's voice.

"...and I'm going to scrub my brain now," muttered Timmy, as they headed to the entrance.

* * *

Danny tilted his head as he watched the line of fire-breathing Ukrainian square-dancers, wondering what they had to do with geek culture. He had dressed as Will Turner from _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

"...this is a _weird _con," he muttered to himself.

At that moment, Sam, Tucker and Dani walked up, having perused the stalls of some guys who looked a bit shifty but had some nice stuff. Sam had dressed as a vampire, Tucker as an MiB and Dani as the female version of Commander Shepard.

"Find anything?" asked Danny.

"Well, Tuck bought some baby echidnas," shrugged Sam, "But they escaped."

"They grow up so fast," sniffled Tucker.

Faintly, Danny could hear a scream of agony, followed by a yell of "Why were you barefoot, you idiot?!"

"Eh, never mind," shrugged Danny, "I heard Weird Al's doing a panel of something – wanna head over there?"

"Weird Al is overrated," a passerby muttered.

The entire con went silent.

"...what?"

"_KILL HIM!"_ thundered Tucker, pointing at the poor man.

And with that, the man was promptly tackled by a crowd of angry nerds.

* * *

"...and then he blossomed into a flower, it was really weird," finished Sheen.

He (dressed as Ultralord) and Carl (dressed as a llama herder) were talking next to a mildly interesting looking wall. It was a nice shade of beige, and it had some pictures of bumblebees attached to it.

Sheen finished his story and shrugged.

"So, what did you think of Ultralord Season 23947?" he asked.

"I think it was pretty average," shrugged Carl.

"_Blasphemy_," hissed Sheen.

"What?" retorted Carl, "The animation was pretty subpar, the guy voicing Ultralord's clearly getting bored, and that cameo by Christopher Lee was kinda pointless..."

"Your opinion is irrelevant!" snapped Sheen, "You're made of LEGO!"

"_NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

* * *

"I don't know, I think they're kinda overrated."

"Overrated? Come on, they're the pioneers of modern..."

"...yeah, I get that, but on their own..."

"Without them, the whole genre wouldn't exist!"

"And that makes them above judgement?"

"No, but it _does_ mean it's pretty hard to overrate what they did for..."

Danny was staring, jaw dropped, as Ember's two heads debated with themselves as they flipped through a selection of old CDs.

They both glared at him.

"Do you mind, baby pop?" demanded the one on the left.

"We're _browsing_," snapped the one on the right.

"...o-_kaaaaaay,_" nodded Danny, backing slowly away.

* * *

Jimmy (dressed as Nikola Tesla) stood to the side and looked at his watch, waiting for Cindy and Libby (dressed as the testing robots from _Portal 2_) to finish their riveting conversation in binary.

"Hello, child!"

Jimmy looked behind him. Technus was there, holding a box of chocolate chip cookies.

"I, Technus, represent the Foundation for Evil Orphans!" he exclaimed, "Every cookie we sell is another black-hearted demon spawn delivered to a bad home!"

"BISCUITS!"

A man in a white shirt and red tie stormed up to him.

"They are called biscuits!" he snapped, "And they shall continue to be called biscuits for as long as it annoys my brother, so help me god!"

"...right...wanna buy one?" asked Technus.

"Oh sure," the guy nodded, handing him a dollar.

"Gotta support those evil orphans," agreed Jimmy, paying for one as well.

"Excellent!" boomed Technus, before laughing evilly and strolling away.

Jimmy bit into his cookie.

"Hmm," he noted, "Tastes friendly."

* * *

"...and that's how I donated my kidney," finished Patrick.

"Wow," nodded Spongebob, awed, "Cool story, bro."

Squidward closed his mouth, somewhat dissatisfied that Spongebob had stolen his comment.

They and Sandy had gathered in the audience of a panel. Patrick was dressed as RoboCop, Spongebob as a jellyfish, Squidward as Mozart and Sandy as a cowgirl.

"So, Sandy," asked Spongebob, "You feeling better after that thing with the Backwardsium Gas?"

"kniht uoy od tahW?" muttered Sandy.

"Glad to hear it," nodded Spongebob, obliviously.

Just then, Danny, Timmy, Jimmy and their friends took seats around them.

"Oh, hey guys!" exclaimed Spongebob, "How've you been?"

"Mentally scarred," murmured Timmy.

"Confused," replied Danny.

Jimmy didn't reply – his mouth was full.

"Great," nodded Spongebob, serenely, "Glad we're having fun."

"ereh s'eh, nwod epip, srelleF..." hissed Sandy.

Indeed, the panel host had arrived, walking onto the stage. He looked over his audience – Carl weeping over his tomato in the mirror status, Ember in an animated conversation with herself and Technus selling his cookies – and he began.

"Hello, and welcome to Flight of Atop the Forth Wall LIVE!" exclaimed Linkara, who was dressed as Booster Gold, "Today we'll be looking at..."

And then, the end credits theme for Doctor Who cut him off.

* * *

Cool story bro.


	23. 23 10 12: The Rhineland

A bit busy today, so just a quickie.

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** It's okay - most people don't know Preston, as it's a bit of an obscure battle. :) Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Fiddley Thing malfunction? =P Thanks for reviewing!

**Third Kind:** Well, I aim to please. *tips hat* Thanks for the review.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Glad you liked it. :D Thanks very much!

* * *

**23/10/12: The Rhineland**

_The great masses of the people will more easily fall victim to a big lie then to a small one – Adolf Hitler_

* * *

_To All Assembled Troops,_

_Permission has been granted to move forces into the Rhineland. Gott mitt uns._

_General Werner von Fritsch.  
Chief of the Army._

* * *

_March 7__th__, 1936.  
The City of Hartmanndorf.  
The Rhineland, Germany._

For the first time since 1919, German soldiers marched into the Rhineland.

Samantha Mannes, a twelve year old villager of the small town of Hartmanndorf, watched as the men, clad in their grey uniforms with jackboots and coalscuttle helmets, drove triumphantly through the town in their drab military trucks. They wouldn't stop here, of course; they were headed down the main road to Mainz, which had seen the observation of French troops just six years earlier.

Her father stood behind her, gripping her shoulders hard. She remembered, vaguely, how he had reacted to the rise of _Der Fuhrer_ in 1934. He had been livid, and had actually considered returning the family to their native home of Rotterdam for a while.

As the trucks drove slowly by, a man jumped onto a small brick wall, and called out a gleeful message to the villagers.

"Germany is rising again!" he called, "No more restrictions! Revenge for the Great War! Heil Hitler!"

The villagers cheered, a few returning the salute to the head of state. Sam's father's grimace grew darker, and he led her away from the crowd, down a back pathway to the village green.

Sitting himself on a park bench, Mr. Mannes sighed heavily, and gave his daughter a sad smile.

"Go and play, _mijn dochter_," he said.

Sam nodded, and happily ran to another corner of the green, where her friend was hanging about.

Daniel Fester grinned widely as her friend approached.

"Hey, Sam!" he greeted, "D'you see the soldiers!"

"Yep," replied Sam, "What're they doing here? Dad said they weren't allowed in Hartmanndorf!"

"_Der Fuhrer_ told the French and English to get lost, and just marched them in," replied Danny, excitedly, "Isn't he awesome?"

"My dad doesn't like him," mused Sam.

"Neither does mine, but who cares?" grinned Danny, "When I grow up, I'm gonna join the army!"

"But you might die," warned Sam.

"No I won't," shrugged Danny, "Hitler's army is invincible!"

"Maybe," nodded Sam, uncertainly, "Anyway, I have something to tell you."

"What's that?" asked Danny.

"Tag!" shouted Sam, patting her friends shoulder and running away.

"Hey, that's not fair!" demanded Danny, running after her.

Watching from the bench, Mr. Mannes gave another depressed sigh as he read a letter in his hands.

_Sehr Geehrter Herr,_

_As per the Nuremberg Laws, passed 1935, the Reich citizenships of yourself and your daughter are officially revoked due to your Jüdisch genetics. In consequent of the same law, the marriage between yourself and Pamela Gottfried has officially been annulled, as you were married by Deutsch law rather than Holländisch._

_Yours,_

_Wilhelm Frick,  
Reich Interior Ministry._

Mr. Mannes crumpled up the letter and threw it in the trash. He knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning…

* * *

Before you ask, all the surnames have been intentionally Germanized.


	24. 24 10 12: An Open Letter to dA: 2yrs On

Yeah, it's exactly two years since that open letter to dA. =]

Review replies;

**Solid Sun:** Much, much worse. :( Thanks for reading!

**OddAuthor:** It's a shame, really, how a few good lies can cause such misery. Thanks for reviewing.

**Cartoonatic55:** _Anything_ is better then If I Was Your Nazi. :( Thanks for the review!

**TweenisodeOrange:** It's okay, I've never been to a con either. ;) Thanks very much.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Precisely. Most of 'em were just misled. :[ Thanks!

**The Shadow Syndicate:** I read somewhere that if the French had attacked, the Germans would have been completely routed and Hitler overthrown. :( Anyway, might do more with this, so we'll see. Thank you!

**Autobot-Outcast:** ...no. *shifty eyes* Danke Schon!

* * *

**24/10/12: An Open Letter to DeviantArt – Two Years On**

To the denizens of the internet's favourite rage-place...

_"Oh, hang on, that's my letter to the FFN Fairly OddParents boards...hang on, here we are."_

To the denizens of the internet's resident art depository,

I have, at this point, been a member of your community for almost two years. Most of you are good people and I'm happy to associate with your community. I do say _most_ of you, because there are a few other people I address with this letter. Here is what I have to say to them;

Why. Why god. Why. Why. Why god. Why.

Is it truly that hard to look at something without saying 'that needs more cleavage and yaoi!' Is it really that hard?

Case in point – Nazi slash!

Oh yeah – this exists.

_At this point, Squidward walks in and looks at the screen. He sees I have written the words 'Nazi slash' into the dA search engine._

_"No," he says._

_"You can't tell me what to do!" I reply._

_"_No._"_

_"Alright, fine."_

Okay, I'll spare you that particular horror. Let's try something else – I am going to search for the Battle of Tannenberg.

Ah, Tannenberg. A little-known but monumental battle, in which the Tsar's army suffered a defeat from which it would never recover. Von Hindenburg's magnum-opus, one of the greatest victories in the history of the German...

_I stare at the screen for thirteen seconds._

_Then I let out a cry._

_"FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU__**UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU**__..."_

Axis. Powers. Hetalia.

I get that people like some things I do not. I don't go around telling people there're not allowed to like, say, Dragonball Z or _The Patriot_. But when I'm searching for historical artwork and I get three pages of long-haired anime guys getting it on or being melodramatic – let's just say it makes me _angry with rage_.

Now, I don't usually mind this if it has taste (although it still irritates me). The problem is that some people use tragic, horrible things (Stalingrad, 9/11, the Sino-Japanese War) as an excuse to ship the anime's characters – and in the immortal words of Principal Geraldine Waxelplax; "That's not right!"

Anyway, moving on in my bucket list of complaints.

Remember how I said that it was impossible to search for a female cartoon character without them being sexualised? Well, let's see if that's changed, shall we? I shall search for...let's say...Maddie Fenton.

_I search the term._

_I pause._

_"...you f**kin' people," I muttered in my best Jack Nicholson impression._

Recently, I've noticed that the dA search seems to hide mature examples (the ones with the no entry warning signs hiding them) from search results unless you allow it to do so. Their absence is notable, in that there are supposed to be twenty-four results on a page, and I can only see ten – of which _one_, just _one_, is non-sexual.

Incidentally, she's not in her jumpsuit in four of them. I'm calling OOC on this, guys.

Alright, so that's still alive and kicking. What about the whole underage thing they had two years back? Hold on, I'll search for Trixie.

_I run the search. I pause, tilting my head._

_"Yeah, I'm gonna rate that a four out of five on the unrealistic proportions chart," I nod, "Also, __**BADTOUCHBADTOUCHBADTOUCH-**__"_

Yup, it's still there.

You know, I've noticed an imbalance here. Let me search for Danny Fenton, just quickly.

I can see twenty-one out of twenty-four. They're all pretty standard – there're some nice ones of him rocking a suit (what? I like suits.) There's one or two anime-styled pictures, a few aged-up pictures – it's all pretty tasteful.

So I have a question.

_"Timmy!" I shout, "Bring me my soapbox!"_

_Timmy walks up, carrying a washing basket labelled 'soapbox'. He puts it down and I jump on top, dramatically waving a British flag._

Why is it that male characters are treated with more respect then female characters by the fandom? Seriously, a large portion of the male fandom seem to whittle down their characters to 'lol bewbs', and a large portion of the female fandom make them evil or dead because they get in the way of their yaoi fix. Obviously, I don't mean everyone or even most of the fandom; I'd like to think this is a minority.

But still, I ask a question – is this right? Is this an acceptable behaviour in modern times?

_"You done?" asks Timmy._

_"Yeah," I nod, getting down, "Back to searching for pictures of old battleships for me."_

Okay, bottom line.

No, the site hasn't changed. No, there are still nowhere near enough robots (there are never enough robots). Yes, there are Nazi groups (one such group I literally went to the trouble of blocking all its members because neo-Nazis) and other people who should not be.

Ultimately, though, it's a good site if you look past the flaws, and I'm glad to be a member of it. Also, some of the poorer art is lulzy.

DeviantArt, you are a perverted, mind-screwing, terror-forming hall full of some of the most disgusting fetishes and ideas in the world…and I love you anyway.

Yours truly,

E350.

P.S.: No seriously, guys, we need more robots.

P.P.S.: Also pirates.

_I sat back, saving and closing the document._

_"Congratulations," deadpanned Timmy, "You just ripped off _yourself_."_

_"Yeah, I'm pretty lazy," I admitted._

* * *

Never enough robots, are there?


	25. 25 10 12: Oath of the Witchfinders

Call this a promo. :D

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** I shudder to think what you'd get with that search. You don't sound too harsh at all. :) Thanks for reading!

**Cartoonatic55:** Yeah, I mean, I'm not a Timmy/Trixie guy but you don't see me killing off Trixie...all the time. :| (Looks at End Times.) Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**Solid Sun:** 'Kay! :D Thanks for the review.

**TweenisodeOrange:** ...oh, it exist. By Jove, it exists... D: Thanks very much!

**The Shadow Syndicate:** Yeah, far from the finest point in our history, that. Bloody Chamberlain. :( Thanks!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** We must dramatically increase the number or robots. :] Thank you!

**Autobot-Outcast: **NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO D: D: D: Danke Schon!

**Third Kind:** I reckon it's the latter, myself. ]:| Also, YEAH ROBOTS! Merci!

* * *

**25/10/12: The Oath of the Witchfinder-Generals**

We stand for order.

_The doorbell rings. Jack answers it._

_"Hello, my name is Mr. Charles and this is Mr. Rupert. We regret to inform you that you are under arrest."_

The world we live in is tainted by evil and chaos. These stains must be erased. They must be eradicated for the good of all mankind.

_Jack throws a punch – Mr. Charles is knocked off his feet and down the porch steps. Mr. Rupert reacts quickly – he pulls a gun on the large man's head._

_"Mr. Fenton, stand down or we will use deadly force."_

We will spread ourselves to every corner of Christendom. We will infiltrate every kingdom to root out the disease. We will do whatever is necessary.

_Jack throws another punch, and the gun is knocked from Mr. Rupert's hands. He cries out, clenching his wrist._

_"Backup!" Mr. Charles shouts into a radio, "We need backup!"_

_At that moment, a line of black vintage cars roars onto the street. Several witchfinders climb out, carrying batons._

Our justice will be swift and merciless. Every witch and warlock will be hunted and erased. Every daemon will be slaughtered like cattle.

_The witchfinders descend on Jack, going to town with their batons. He is subdued and cuffed, but not before he knocks out two of his foes._

_A blast of green flies past the witchfinders heads – Maddie has arrived, ectogun in hand._

We shall take them, and any who stand with them, and we shall burn them, for one shall not suffer a witch to live.

_"Taze her! Taze her, for the love of God!"_

_A particularly brave agent makes a run for her. Ducking a shot, he leaps and tackles her, holding her down while four more come to help cuff her. Most end up wounded as Maddie struggles against them, but they succeed._

We will be present in every echelon of society. Our eyes will watch everyone and everything. Nothing will escape our notice.

_Mr. Charles mops his brow as their captives are forced into the back of a car._

_"Call the Boston Office," he pants to another witchfinder, "Tell them to bring in Phantom and take him to HQ."_

_The agent nods._

_"The noose is tightening,"_ _hisses Mr. Charles, "I can feel it."_

We are omnipresent. We are ever-vigilant. We are legion in our goal.

In the name of His Majesty the King, we are the Witchfinder-Generals.

* * *

They may be a bit extreme.


	26. 26 10 12: But Then There Were Robots

Uugh, this was the oneshot from hell. Seven hours, this took - _seven hours._

Review replies;

**OddAuthor:** Just a bit, yeah. :P Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Moderation?! What is this sorcery? D: Thanks for reviewing.

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** We shall see - Dib should probably be worried, though. :D Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** Just a tad. :] Thanks very much!

* * *

**26/10/12: But Then There Were Robots**

"I've got it!" yelled Professor Finbarr Calamitous as he pointed dramatically at the ceiling.

"...what, a four letter word beginning with B?" quizzed Ember, looking up from their Scrabble game.

"No!" retorted Calamitous, indignantly, "An evil plan!"

He, Ember and ManRay (who was sneaking peeks at everyone else's letters when no-one was looking) were sitting at a table on the bridge of Professor Calamitous' new moon base.

"Ooh, is it a _diabolical_ plan?" quizzed ManRay, excitedly.

"Quite," replied Calamitous, grinning evilly, "I shall gather several unwitting subjects, bring them to my newly-built and seldom mentioned Human-to-Robot converter, and...um...what's the word?"

"Eliminate?" quizzed ManRay.

"Control?" suggested Ember.

"...no, it's...I've got it! I shall robotic...no, that's terrible, I shall _mechanicalize _them!" exclaimed Calamitous.

There was an audible slap as Ember facepalmed.

"Hmm," mused ManRay, "We're going to need to be discreet about this. We can't have people noticing their loved ones being turned into soulless automations, after all."

"Oh, don't worry," sneered Calamitous, "I've planned for that..."

* * *

_Ding dong!_

Professor Membrane strode up to the door of his house, Dib following behind him.

"I'm telling you, dad, something weird's going on," warned Dib, "I'm getting a lot of weird radio transmissions from the Moon! It's gotta be aliens!"

"Oh, son," responded Membrane, "The only living things on the Moon are the lab assistants I shot into space last year. There is nothing to worry about!"

He opened the door.

"GREETINGS DESIGNATION: FATHER UNIT," boomed Gaz, her glowing red eyes contrasting her rather rusty metal skin, "I, YOUR NORMAL HUMAN SON/DAUGHTER, HAVE RETURNED FROM SCHOOL. I SHALL NOW CONSUME DINNER AND RETIRE TO BED. I AM A PERFECTLY NORMAL HUMAN CHILD."

"You see?" grinned Membrane, oblivious to Dib's horrified expression, "Everything is just as it should be. Now back to the lab!"

* * *

"Okay, maybe it could use a little bit of work," admitted Calamitous, watching the scene from a monitor in the space station.

"You think?" replied Ember, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, new plan," decided Calamitous, "We upgrade the machine and test it properly before using it."

He paused.

"Actually, that probably should have been our first plan."

* * *

Two weeks later, Calamitous finished upgrading his Human-to-Robot converter and was ready to test it on his first test subjects...

"Rise and shine, Mister Squarepants, rise and shine."

Spongebob opened his eyes. He could see the blurred image of a short, rotund man with a bushy moustache.

"Good Neptune!" he exclaimed, "It's Dr. Eggman!"

"Yes, it is I, Dr-wait, what?" responded Calamitous, "What're you talking about? I'm Professor Calamitous, you brainless ninny!"

"...you do kinda look like Dr. Eggman," mused Spongebob, "I mean, if you dyed your hair..."

"Yes, whatever," groaned Calamitous, "Onto business."

He proceeded to laugh maniacally.

"You are now my prisoner," he sneered, "Doomed to be converted into a robot to assist in my world domination schemes! Here's one I made earlier."

He stepped aside, revealing a robotic Patrick, demonstrating the advanced technology of artificially intelligent robots by walking into the wall repeatedly.

"...his brain doesn't really work very well," murmured Calamitous.

"Patrick!" exclaimed Spongebob.

"Yes!" thundered Calamitous, "And that is what will happen to you – you, and your squirrel friend, and your neighbour, and your boss, and your snail, and...well, you get the point, I suppose. ManRay! Take him away!"

* * *

Spongebob was tied up and taken to **_the Laboratory_** _(thunder and lightning)_, where the converter was being held.

It wasn't all that impressive actually. It was a little glass tube with some wires running into it, as well as a small console made from old GameCube parts. It would not have looked out of place as a set decoration on the original Star Trek series.

Spongebob was put down next to Calamitous' other prisoner.

"Oh hai Sandy! How'd you get here?" he asked.

"Trust me, I didn't make it easy on 'em," muttered Sandy.

Indeed, she had been captured after a long and fierce duel with Ember. I'm sure you all wanted to see the squirrel-on-ghost rocker catfight, but I like to think I'm better than that, so no fanservice for you. Troll-lol-lol-lol-lol, lads.

Anyway, at this point, Professor Calamitous entered the lab, rubbing his hands together.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, "Now, insert the prisoners into the tube!"

ManRay shoved the two prisoners into the tube, where they were constrained back-to-back.

"Um, Calamitous?" gulped Spongebob, "Is this safe?"

"Absolutely not!" replied Calamitous, putting his finger on the big red button.

An electrical pulse erupted at the bottom of the tube, slowly moving up. As it did, it converted flesh to metal, veins to wire, muscles to machinery, and so on so forth.

Spongebob's legs became long, thin, extendable-looking metal constructs. His pants and body became steel, the holes smoothing out into simple, panel-like patches. His arms changed in the same way his legs had. His mouth remained mostly unchanged in shape, as did his nose, but his eyes turned black with glowing blue irises.

Sandy's legs thickened out slightly, becoming not dissimilar to those of Jenny Wakeman. Her skirt become spikier and her arms changed to become like Spongebob's. Her mouth vanished as the pulse moved over her head, leaving just an imprint of her nose and two black eyes with green irises.

Then, the pulsing stopped.

"Well?" quizzed Calamitous, "Did it work?"

"_Unit-Spongebob reporting for duty,_" said Spongebob, in monotone.

"_Unit-Sandy reporting for duty,_" said Sandy, in monotone.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Calamitous, rubbing his hands together, "It works! Now, onto part two of Phase One of our plan!"

"...don't you mean Phase Two?" asked ManRay.

"You ever hear the saying 'you can't thwart Phase One?"

"Ah, of course."

"So," nodded Ember, "Do we use them to take over the world? To spy on people?"

"Oh, I've got something much better..." chuckled Calamitous.

* * *

_ROBOTS FOR SALE_

_Three robots, slightly used condition. Advanced AI (one is somewhat broken), various gadgetry. $100 apiece (or best offer)._

_Proceeds to be used to fund construction of Professor Calamitous' world domination schemes._

_Please call 1800-UMMMM if interested. Heroes and law-enforcement agencies need not apply._

* * *

Oh, Calamitous! :D


	27. 27 10 12: Plans Into Action

My uncle's ceremony is today, so just a quickie. Hopefully the last quickie this year.

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** One would hope so - that was seven whole hours. =P Thanks for reading!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant: **Still, he didn't sell them for much, so... :P Yeah, Dib needs a break - Gaz's turn for abuse, eh? Thanks for reviewing!

**Autobot-Outcast:** Ah, Craigslist. :P Thanks for the review!

* * *

**27/10/12: Plans Into Action**

_Thames House, London._

"...and fer god's sake, check for gasses – we in't gettin' caught out like that again..."

Thames House was cordoned off.

Several policemen surrounded the building, holding off a curious public and a fuming Head of the SIS, as men and women in three-piece suits filed inside. These people hailed from all corners of the earth – America, Europe, Asia, Africa and Oceania – and were now gathered to discuss the future of their organisation and their world.

Most of them simply waited inside Thames House, but their leaders made their way into a conference room and sat at a long table. At the head of this table was an old man in an immaculate two-piece suit. This man was the Lord Protector – operational head of the Witchfinder-Generals.

"Welcome, my friends," he wheezed, "I have conferred with the King on your progress – he is very impressed. You have done well."

He paused, allowing his subordinates a moment to bask in satisfaction.

"Now, onto business," continued the Lord Protector, "At 2 o'clock this morning, several units of the British Army rolled into Cambridgeshire, and the RAF was put on alert. Mr. Stuart informs me that we have Madame Athena cornered, and I intend to crush her like an ant. Questions?"

"Just one," nodded one of the subordinates, "We seem to be going for the blunt hammer approach. Why use military assets when we can be discreet?"

"For a start," replied the Lord Protector, "Athena is extremely dangerous and has recently acquired an apprentice – need I remind you all what happened in Berlin in 1989?"

"We went in unprepared and we paid for it," remembered the subordinate, shaking his head.

"So did East Germany," murmured another subordinate.

"The second and most important reason," continued the Lord Protector, "Was handed down to me this morning."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a worn looking envelope.

"Gentlemen," he hissed, "Judgement Day is fast approaching."

* * *

"Judgement Day?"

Danny was standing in a field outside Boston, the sun setting in the distance. He wasn't alone – Jones was sitting next to him, looking grim.

"Aye, lad," nodded Jones, "Judgement Day. I don't know a bloody thing about the Witchfinders' plans for it, but it's important enough to attract Merlin's attention."

"_Merlin?_" exclaimed Danny, "The wizard?"

"The very same," nodded Jones, somewhat proudly, "He's currently lodging in an inn in Llanberis, waiting for the return of the Once and Future King..."

"King Arthur's coming back?"

"What, you swallow a parrot or something?" sniffed Jones, "Yes. He is. Y'see, what these suits are calling Judgement Day, we dragons are calling the Return – the King of Britannia comes back in her hour of need."

"Where the heck was he in 1066?" asked Danny.

Jones rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Look, lad," he said, "You remember what I said about Arthur and the meeting of the dragons, right?"

"Yeah?"

"If that's the case, we've got to get to Avalon," continued Jones, "I can't just be bloody well taking mortals there, but..."

"If I stay here, the suits get me, yeah," nodded Danny, "What about Sam and Tuck? I told them to wait in the harbour with the Spectre Speeder."

"Oh, for god's...we'll pick 'em up on the way," groaned Jones, "Christ, bringing three of you to Avalon – his majesty's gonna have my head..."

* * *

Mr. Stuart and his companions strode through the college to their car, Mr. Preston idly wiping some blood from his coat with a handkerchief.

"Glad you could convince the Headmaster to cooperate, Mr. Preston," commended Mr. Stuart, "We'll tell the coppers he fell down the stairs, should they ask."

They stopped as they reached their black vintage car.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Stuart, "We have several thousand soldiers patrolling Cambridgeshire for 'terrorist infiltrators'. We have the RAF covering the skies. We have twenty-six agents in the city of Cambridge at present, with more coming tomorrow morning. All we have to do is wait for Athena to return home, and another witch burns..."

* * *

Judgement Day, the Return, the Day All The Big Things Happen - it's all Welsh to me.


	28. 28 10 12: Run!

RUN AWAAAAAAAAY

Review replies;

**TweenisodeOrange:** He must be a _very _heavy sleeper. :P Thanks for reading.

**Autobot**-**Outcast:** I know, it's _so_ 1600s. =P Also, _maybe._ Thanks for reviewing!

**Cartoonatic55: **Thanks, that really means a lot. :) Bender's gonna be peeved at me. :P Also, yeah, that's quite a collection. :]

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yup, that's a reference. ;) Thanks for the review.

**OddAuthor:** Aye, it's very serious indeed. :| Thanks very much!

* * *

**28/10/12: Run!**

"...wait, if they're here, couldn't Jazz and Athena escape somewhere else?" quizzed Timmy.

"They don't know they're here, idiot," grunted Jimmy, "That's why it's an ambush."

"Oh, right."

They, Spongebob, Sandy and Dani were walking through the grounds of the unidentified yet suitably old college. The place was deserted – the college had closed early today, due the Headmaster having an 'Unfortunate and Entirely Accidental Encounter with the Bottom of the Stairs'. The sky was grey and ominous – it threatened rain.

Suddenly, they heard a voice.

"You are not students."

Three men walked out of the main building of the college, stepping out into the grounds.

"Who are you?" demanded Sandy.

"My name is Mr. Stuart," replied one of the men, "This is Mr. Cromwell, and this is Mr. Preston. We assume you are..._friends_ of Ms. Fenton?"

"You could say that," snarled Dani, clenching her fists.

"Then we know why they aren't here," nodded Mr. Stuart, "We know how they were warned..."

"Warned?" quizzed Timmy, "We didn't..."

"...and we know," finished Mr. Stuart, "Who is to blame."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a C96 Mauser pistol.

"You're under arrest."

Timmy blinked.

"Uh...okay guys," he gulped, "We can talk about this...um...let us just get something from...over there!"

He immediately fled the way he came, his companions following him.

"Why do they always run?" muttered Mr. Stuart, before beginning the chase.

* * *

"Guys!" exclaimed Timmy, as they reached the road, "Can anyone drive?!"

"I can!" exclaimed Spongebob.

"Does anyone have a license?" elaborated Timmy.

"I do," nodded Sandy.

"Good," nodded Timmy, lifting his arm (with two watches, green and pink, on it), "Guys, I wish we had a car!"

Poof!

A small, battered looking van appeared in front of them.

"Good enough!" shouted Jimmy as they dived inside.

With a skid and a roar, they rocketed down the road.

"Well, that was pretty lucky," sighed Jimmy, sitting back in the passenger seat, "Where to now?"

_WEEEEEEEE-WOOOOOO-WEEEEEEE-WOOOOOOO!_

Two police cars, led by a vintage black car, screeched out in front of them, forcing Sandy to skid around them. Barely missing, they continued down the road, the police vehicles following.

"What?" snapped Timmy, "The cops? Can this get any worse?"

Then it began to rain.

"...of course," grunted Timmy.

* * *

"...this is Mr. Stuart, we are pursuing witch-allies out of Cambridge, headed due south towards Duxford, copy?"

"_Copy, Mr. Stuart,"_ snapped the voice of the Lord Protector, _"Keep following – we'll net Athena. Switch to channel two, by the way – there's an orchestra readying up."_

Mr. Stuart switched the car's radio channels.

"_...this is Victor-flight, we are inbound to Cambridge, armed and ready to knock out some terrorists, over."_

Mr. Stuart sniffed.

"Terrorists," he chuckled, "I love comedy."

* * *

"Does anyone have any ideas?" demanded Sandy, as they weaved their way into the countryside.

"Just one!" replied Jimmy, "But it's gonna sound pretty stupid!"

"What is it?"

Jimmy opened the door and pulled out his Tornado Blaster.

"Take us left, _take us left!_" he shouted.

"_Have you gone insane?!_" demanded Dani.

"_Just take us left!_"

Sandy yanked the wheel.

The van darted to the left, blocking the far-left lane of the road. Jimmy fired.

The blast struck one of the police cars and knocked it to the right. It spun out and skidded to a halt, being left behind by its fellows.

Sandy turned back around and Jimmy leaned back in.

"Well, that's one down," he panted, "Can anyone cover the right?"

"I can," nodded Dani, going ghost and charging an ectobeam in her hand.

"Great," nodded Jimmy, "Open the..."

Dani phased her arms through the window.

"...oh yeah."

Sandy veered right, and Dani fired. The beam hit the window of the second police car, and while it didn't break it, it did cover the windshield with ectoplasmic goop. The car screeched to a halt.

Once again, Sandy righted the vehicle, and Dani and Timmy hi-fived.

"Okay, we got one left," nodded Jimmy, preparing to open his door, "On three...one...two..."

At that moment, the radio magically turned on.

* * *

Mr. Stuart tilted his head as his radio turned to static, before being replaced by..._Ride of the Valkyries_?

"What in the name of?" he quizzed.

Then, out of the fog, he saw something zoom into view. His jaw dropped.

It was a flying house.

* * *

The house roared towards the road, pursued by two RAF fighters. It fired its guns, striking the soil just next to the road before thundering over it.

The house veered to the left, the fighters following vigorously. There was a burst of flight as the house let off flares, forcing the pursuing jets to veer away. Now no longer harassed, the house began a second attack run.

Two more rockets were fired, both barrelling towards the black car. With a thunderous boom, the car was blown into the air, landing on its roof in a nearby field.

The house's operator grinned, and activated his radio.

"You people owe me for that," snapped Dr. Insano, "Now pull over, we need to get out of here before those planes get back!"

* * *

"So," quizzed Spongebob, "Did you find the centre of the universe?"

The group was now aboard the _Exit Strategy_, making its way due west through the rain.

"Oh, right," nodded Insano, "It's in Milton Keynes; even I'm crazy enough to go through there. Anyway, to business – we're going to Wales!"

"...why?" demanded Jimmy.

"Because," replied Insano, dramatically, "_Judgement Day is upon us._"

"...and that's bad, right?" quizzed Timmy.

"Yes, yes it is."

* * *

I told you we'd see him again.


	29. 29 10 12: Kings

Oh no it's chess.

Review replies;

**Cartoonatic55:** He had to come back, you know. XD Thanks for reading!

**TweenisodeOrange:** Or at least not make things worse this time. =P Thanks for reviewing!

**Autobot-Outcast:** That he does, that he does. Thanks for the review!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yes, he did hack the radios. :] Thanks very much!

* * *

**29/10/12: Kings**

Mr. Stuart opened his eyes.

He was in the back of a van, the Lord Protector looking over him as they headed down the busy A1 highway. He noticed Mr. Cromwell and Mr. Preston were absent.

"...where are..." he began to murmur.

"Mr. Cromwell and Mr. Preston are being taken to hospital in Cambridge," replied the Lord Protector, "They are stable, but will play no further part in these proceedings."

"I was unprepared, sir," muttered Mr. Stuart, "They got the drop on us, I accept full responsibility..."

"For what?" quizzed the Lord Protector, "It isn't easy to outwit Merlin, you know."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, he was one who tipped-off Athena and Ms. Fenton," grunted the Lord Protector, "No matter, they will be dealt with – we, on the other hand, must prepare our deck."

"Where are we going?" asked Mr. Stuart.

The Lord Protector smirked.

"To the Vault, dear boy."

* * *

Athena stood on the stony north Welsh beach, ignoring the rain and wind that forced all others to shelter. Behind her, her companions had taken shelter in the recently landed USS _Exit Strategy,_ basking in its central heating. They were waiting.

Jazz, Dani and Timmy were at the table, the latter having wished up some hot chocolate.

"So," asked Dani, "What's it like training with Athena?"

'It's pretty good," replied Jazz, shrugging, "I mean, learning magic's pretty..."

"_Sail on the horizon!_"

Jimmy raced past and out the door.

"Talk later?"

"Yeah."

Jazz, Dani and Timmy followed Jimmy outside into the rain, where Athena was pointing out to sea. Out of the fog came a black galleon under full sail.

"What the heck is that?" quizzed Timmy.

"The _Golden Hind_," replied Jimmy, "The ship Sir Francis Drake sailed around the world. But it can't be, can it?"

"It is," nodded Athena, "And it's ferrying a load of great importance from the Isle of Avalon."

She smiled.

"The Once and Future King is returning – and he didn't come alone."

Behind the _Golden Hind_, a vast fleet sailed out of the fog – cogs, galleys, ships-of-the-line, destroyers – all headed into the inlet, prepared for battle. Above them was a flight of dozens of dragons.

"Whoa," gasped Timmy.

* * *

The Vault was quiet, save for the Lord Protector and Mr. Stuart walking through its dank and gloomy halls. It had been a dungeon once, built under Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire.

"Once upon a time, we tortured people down here," hissed the Lord Protector, "People who wouldn't confess, you understand. The rack, the wheel – these were the tools of our trade."

"Times have changed," nodded Mr. Stuart.

"Ha! Obviously you don't associate with the interrogators much, my boy," the Lord Protector chuckled darkly, "But our methods were not harsh – comparatively."

He looked around the dingy corridor, as if contemplating to himself.

"Did you know that King Edward II was murdered here?" he asked, absently, "An agent of his queen jabbed a red hot poker up his rectum – the screams could be heard for miles around, they say. The locals say the screams echo again, once a year on the 21st of September."

Mr. Stuart was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable.

Presently they reached a reinforced iron door, which the Lord Protector opened with a key. They then entered a small chamber with a stone coffin inside.

"Is this..." breathed Mr. Stuart.

"Yes," nodded the Lord Protector, "It is."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old key made of human bone.

* * *

"Make way for the King, lads! Make way!"

Jones landed on the beach next to the group, ahead of two longboats launched from the _Golden Hind_.

"Ah, bloody hell," he panted, "Can't stand Avalon, you know – time's all funny over there, you know, can hardly tell an hour from a year. Ugh, people wonder why I prefer good old Wales..."

He turned to Jazz.

"Oh, you Jazz Fenton?"

"...uh...yeah," nodded Jazz.

"Your brother asked me to pass a message," said Jones, "He's alright, but the Witchfinder-Generals are tightening the noose, so he and his friends had to take refuge in Avalon. We got no word from your parents, though, I'm afraid."

"Wait, Danny's with..."

"The King," nodded Arthur, "Few people get that, you know. Your brother should be bloody proud."

"Shh!" hissed Athena, pointing to the boats, which were almost ashore.

The first boat touched land, and its occupants climbed out. There were twenty of them – a variety of redcoats, three medieval footmen, two musketeers, a BEF infantryman and three familiar figures, all decked out in plate armour.

Danny passed Jazz and Dani a wink as he, Sam and Tucker took positions by the water's edge, waiting for the main event.

The next boat was now offloading – first came some standard bearers, then two knights in shining armour.

Then came King Arthur.

He was decked in full armour and regal regalia, Excalibur in its hilt on his waist. He possessed a full, brown beard and striking green eyes. He stepped ashore, and all his witnesses bowed (Timmy and company were somewhat hesitant, but joined in.)

He smiled, and crossed his arms.

"Well," he asked, "Who threatens Britannia?"

* * *

The Lord Protector slid the key into a lock on the side of the coffin, and it began to shift. The stones slid away, revealing the decomposed corpse inside. Mr. Stuart suppressed the urge to wretch.

Then it began to glow and move.

The coffin slowly shifted into an upright position. A sickening series of crunches filled the air as the corpse stretched and moved its bony limbs, as if waking up from a long sleep. It opened its eyes – revealing swollen, empty sockets. The Lord Protector bowed, and hesitantly Mr. Stuart joined.

The corpse stepped forward. It looked at the Lord Protector, leaning his skeletal face in close to the man.

"Where?" King James I wheezed, in a hoarse, dry voice with a vague hint of a Scottish accent.

"North Wales, Your Majesty," replied the Lord Protector, "Where Mordred was slain."

The corpse man hissed – it sounded like the moaning of the damned.

"_Camlann_."

* * *

ZOMBIE JAMES I VS KING ARTHUR

PLACE YOUR BETS


	30. 30 10 12: A Brief History of British War

This was supposed to be another Protect and Survive, but see below.

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**Zim'sMostLoyalServant: **The battle draws closer, my friend - I hope you are not dissapointed. :) Thanks very much!

**Cartooantic55:** Ah, but the Witchfinder-Generals have a few tricks up their sleeves... :| Thanks!

* * *

**30/10/12: A (Very) Brief History of British Wars**

_At the time of writing, the east coast of the United States is being battered by a one-in-a-century superstorm. The original plan for today's fic was another parody of the 1980s British PSA _Protect and Survive_. However, making a fake emergency warning on FFN while a very real and serious emergency is in process for hundreds of thousands of people strikes me as very poor taste, so I have elected to pull this plan._

_In order to keep with the finale theme (vaguely), I have instead decided to provide some military background to islands of Great Britain. Some of this may be referenced in the finale tomorrow, so it still connects to the plot._

_I implore my readers to keep the peoples of the US Eastern Seaboard, particularly the currently missing captain of the _Bounty_, in their thoughts._

* * *

War. What is it good for? Well, quite a lot, if you're rich and ambitious and don't care about the peasants who die for you.

The history of Britain in conflict starts at the thaw of the last Ice Age, when Britain split from the continent of Europe and her conflicts stopped being considered part of the history of the vague Anglo-Franco-Belgian lump in Western Europe. What I basically mean to say here is that people have been clobbering other people over stupid things since time immemorial and trying to find a distinct 'first war' is impossible.

That said, the first 'real' British war was fought against Caesar's Roman Legions (back then, any war that wasn't waged by Romans or Greeks wasn't a real war) in 55BC. The local Celtic tribes rose up against the invaders and were clobbered, saved only by Caesar returning to Gaul for the winter. Now they'd gotten a taste of how the Romans operated, surely the Celts would win in the inevitable rematch, right?

You'd be wrong – Claudius' invasion in 43AD was a walkover.

Proving the phrase 'third time's a charm', the Britons managed to badly shake the Romans in a massive uprising led by Boudica, queen of the Iceni tribe and all-round badass. Unfortunately, Roman discipline eventually won out over Celtic pride, relegating them to the status of 'football team' and reinforcing their rule over Britain.

After that, the Roman providence of Britannia was relatively peaceful, save for the Ninth Legion vanishing off the face of the Earth. Then, in the 300s, Rome suffered from the trendy new life-style choices of 'Kill the Old Emperor and Take His Job' and 'Let's Raise Our Armies From All The People Who Hate Us', and the whole shebang basically fell apart. The Romans abandoned Britannia in 410AD, leaving everyone left to fend for themselves against the oncoming barbarians.

It was at this point that England became the preferred vacation spot for angry German tribes and opportunistic Scots.

First came the Angles, who were almost as scary as their mathematical counterparts. Then came the Saxons, who were even worse than the Angles. The constant war made it very difficult to be a historian, what with all the looting and murdering, so a lot of this period is pieced together by oral history, fragments, archaeological finds and the occasional bit of wishful thinking. This is around the time King Arthur is supposed to have lived.

Eventually, the Angles and the Saxons won and pushed out most of the locals, who went off to become Welsh. They settled down, forming a prosperous society – at which point the Vikings came sauntering over to do unto them as they did to the Celts. I love irony.

The Saxons and the Vikings fought each other on and off for years – during this time we have the reign of Cnut the Great, first man to rule all of England. Eventually, however, a third party came in to vanquish them both – enter William the Bastard (yes, that was his real name) and the Normans.

William's Normans engaged the then (Saxon) king, Harold Godwinson, at Hastings in southern England in the October of 1066. In a close fought battle (retold on a long and unintentionally hilarious tapestry in Bayoux, Normandy), William killed Harold and defeated the Saxons, becoming King of England because that's just how it was done back then. Thus began a thousand years of peace and stability in the Kingdom of England.

...

Only joking. William burnt down the whole of the north about three years later before spending the majority of his remaining years fighting people.

That was how it was for the next few centuries – William's sons fought each other until one of them (Henry) killed his competitors (stopping to burn out one of his brothers' eyes) and won. He then decreed that his daughter, Matilda, would take the throne – his nephew, Stephen, didn't like this, so the two fought out the issue in a nice, civil manner that was later called 'the Anarchy'. That's right, V for Vendetta; Stephen of Blois did it before it was cool.

Eventually, they decided that Stephen could be king until he died, at which point Matilda's son would take the throne (it took seventeen years of civil war to reach this conclusion, which makes it slightly less bloody then a US Presidential election). England got a break from violent, massive civil wars for a few hundred years (save for a little spat between Henry II and his sons and something about barons) – replaced by violent, massive campaigns against other people. One of these, the inaccurately named Hundred Years War (116 years long), is notable for lasting for-bloody-ever and for the English winning all three main battles and yet still somehow managing to lose – go team! Wales was also conquered in this period, while Scotland...well, we tried.

Eventually, though, civil wars became in the vogue again. In the 1400s, the lords of England engaged in the Wars of the Roses. The competitors were the Houses of Lancaster and York – the prize was the throne.

Yes. It was a Game of Thrones.

*laugh track*

The Wars of the Roses were particularly nasty – a lot of people seem to have forgotten that ransom existed, which meant a few lovely mutilations, tortures and the occasional wine-drowning. Eventually, the Yorkists (under Richard III) were finally defeated at Bosworth Field in 1485 by a Welshman named Henry Tudor, who was on the side of the Lancastrians but wasn't _technically_ a member of oh bloody hell this regal crap is bananas.

The reign of the Tudors was when England's star really began to rise. While Henry VIII got into a few scraps, the main conflict everyone remembers was the series of Anglo-Spanish spats in the second half of the 1500s, when Phillip II got all worked up because Elizabeth I rejected his marriage proposal. Phillip put all his rage (and his money) into building the greatest armada the world had ever seen – which ended up being chased away from England by Sir Francis Drake and battered to pieces by storms around Scotland and Ireland. He really should have stuck with empire-building.

In 1603, Elizabeth I, the last Tudor died, and James VI of Scotland rode to London to become James I of England (yep, that James I), uniting the two kingdoms. Aside from being really paranoid about witches, James I really got overseas colonisation going – which led to war and conquest against Native Americans who were quite sure that land was theirs, actually. He also fought a few wars with France, but as his lead general (the Duke of Buckingham) was a horrendous commander who only had his job because he was...err..._close_ to the King, they didn't get very far.

James I's son, Charles I, ended up being a prick, so Parliament threw him out and said they wanted a revolution (well they knew they all wanna change the world.) Parliament won, due to the fact that they had Britain's first professional army. Charles had his noggin surgically removed, Oliver Cromwell took over Britain and a third of Ireland died. It was a bad time to live in the British Isles. Eventually, though, Cromwell died (and his own head began an adventure around the world) and the beheaded king's son, Charles II, came back to take his place as the Merry Monarch. (During this time, the Great Plague and the Great Fire happened – truly, a merry time.)

By the 1700s, James I's descendants (the Stuarts) had lost their grip on the throne due to being a) arseholes and b) Catholics. The Hanoverian King George I took the throne, and the Stuarts' supporters (the Jacobites) immediately rebelled. This was a small affair, but it was followed by a bigger one in 1715, and a _much_ bigger one in 1745. The last battle fought on British soil was the Battle of Culloden in 1746, where an army of Jacobite Highlands bravely charged Hanoverian positions and were gunned down, their wounded bayoneted on the field. But don't worry, their leader, Bonnie Prince Charlie, escaped to France and drank himself to death. What a hero!

Britain, having finished warring with itself, now decided to export war to the Americas and India (not to say that these places didn't already have war, just that they didn't have _British_ war. Rule Britannia!) Colonialism was well underway, save for that one hiccup when those colonies rebelled and become that republic that's mildly important today. The British also fought the French basically uninterrupted between 1793 and 1815, because if there's one thing an Englishman loves, it's kicking the frogs. General rule – Trafalgar and Waterloo are to be remembered as great moments in British history – the Holland campaign _never happened_.

After all this, Britain and France formed an unholy alliance to fight the Russians in the 1854-6 Crimean War, during which the British officers behaved themselves with incompetence so absolute it would have made the Trojans shake their heads. The terrible conditions that British soldiers lived in, combined with the utterly unnecessarily slaughter of the Light Brigade and the badly conducted Siege of Sevastopol led to sweeping reforms of the army. Did they work?

Well, in 1914, Britain and France formed an unholy alliance to fight the Germans in the First World War, during which the British officers behaved themselves with incompetence so absolute it would have made the Trojans shake their heads.

Easy come easy go, I suppose.

After WWI, the British Empire began to decline. In WWII, British forces fought on all major fronts, with the possible exception of the Russian front (I'm pretty sure some RAF pilots went that way, though.) Between June 1940 and June 1941, they were totally alone in Europe but still managed to keep the war effort afloat long enough for the US to come in with their shiny new Sherman tanks. During this war, the SAS was founded.

British forces engaged heavily in the Cold War as well, particularly in the Korean War, the Malayan Emergency and the Falklands War (also known as the GREAT BRITAIN F**K YEAH War among the Conservative Party). They are the principal non-US member of the Coalition in Afghanistan, and until recently were heavily deployed in Northern Ireland. For the foreseeable future, it is likely that the British Army, the RAF and the Royal Navy will remain an important force on the world stage.

Now, where were we?

Oh yeah, Zombie James I VS King Arthur.

...I am so looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

Easy come easy go - the motto of history.


	31. 31 10 12: Judgement Day

...and here we are - the final battle.

Review replies;

**capslokk:** Thanks mate, that means a lot. :) I'm certainly going to count that as a fave. :D

**TweenisodeOrange:** Indeed it is. :| Thanks for reading!

**Solid Sun:** Yeah! GO TEAM CAMELOT! :D Thanks for reviewing!

**Zim'sMostLoyalServant:** Yeah, I understand that. Glad you hear you're okay. Thanks for the review!

**Cartoonatic55:** Yeah, his dad must have been a bit of a bastard to give him that name. =D Thanks very much!

* * *

**31/10/12: Judgement Day**

Snowdonia.

Situated in North Wales, Snowdonia is named for Snowdon, the largest mountain in Wales (and by extension, England). It is far from London, far from Cardiff – it is probably one of the most rugged and wild lands in Great Britain.

These days, it is mostly known for its natural beauty and its old mines. But over a thousand years ago, Snowdonia was the site of the final battle between King Arthur and his treacherous nephew Mordred – here, Mordred was slain, and Arthur mortally wounded.

This was Camlann, and its location was lost to history for fifteen hundred years.

Until now.

The forces of Avalon and the Witchfinder-Generals were positioned on opposite ends of a rocky valley in Snowdonia, just to the east of a mountain creek. Around them were the massive, bare mountains of the Welsh Highlands. Visibility was reduced beyond these mountains by a storm, growing more wild and vicious by the minute.

Judgement Day had dawned.

* * *

"What happens if we lose?" asked Jazz.

She and Athena were watching Arthur's army form up from the shelter of an umbrella. Thousands of men and women had taken formation on a crag overlooking the battle – preparing to make their move.

"Judgement Day," replied Athena, "This is called the Return for a reason – King Arthur has come back in Britain's hour of need. The Witchfinder-Generals must be poised to execute their grand plan – a ritual to erase magic."

She shook her head.

"But magic is the thread that keeps this island together," she continued, "If they remove it...the British Isles, and all of its millions of inhabitants, will cease to exist."

"...and I doubt they intend to stop with Britain," realised Jazz, "They'd wipe out the whole planet!"

* * *

"Are you sure he can do it?" quizzed Mr. Stuart.

The Lord Protector nodded.

"Once he has Excalibur, removing the curse from this planet will be as simple as...well, swinging a sword," he agreed.

The two men were watching their forces gather up – riflemen at the front, while men with large swords and pikes took up the rear.

"Why are we prepared for melee fighting, sir?" asked Mr. Stuart.

"He's King Arthur," sniffed the Lord Protector, "He won't be taken down by a bullet of all things. Now, my boy..."

He put a hand on Mr. Stuart's shoulder.

"...I want you to lead our riflemen."

* * *

"They've made the first move."

King Arthur stood on the edge of the crag, flanked by Dr. Insano and the wizened old form of Merlin. On the other side of the valley, they could see platoons of black-clad soldiers – led by a few suited men – making their way onto the field.

"Move up our skirmishers," ordered Arthur, "Form up the melee troops behind them and ready our cavalry reserve. Once that is done, return to the...house...and hold down the fort."

"Avoid the battle?" said Dr. Insano, "Sounds like my kind of plan!"

He walked merrily away.

"The die is cast," nodded Arthur.

* * *

"Forward, 24th!"

"Coldstreams, move up!"

"Black Watch! Quick march!"

Three massed formations of ranged troops marched onto the battlefield. To the left were the 24th Foot, dressed in off-white pith helmets and a red tunic. In the centre were the Coldstream Guards, adorned in shakos, red jackets and white crossbelts. On the right flank were the Black Watch – Scotsmen in black fur caps and kilts. They marched to the beat of fife and drums – looking like something of a bygone age.

Mr. Stuart sniffed.

"Did they forget which century we were fighting in?" he asked no-one in particular.

The Witchfinder troops slowly advanced, getting closer and closer. Arthur's troops stopped and aimed.

With a crack, they fired.

A few men went down – most were unharmed, and prepared to return fire. Stuart raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

"What?"

Mr. Stuart cursed at his jammed gun, unaware that three-quarters of his men had suffered the same problem.

* * *

"Who said magic is useless in this day and age?" grinned Athena, holding her spell over the enemy's weapons.

Arthur grinned and nodded, before calling over a messenger.

"Relay message to Lady Manson," he ordered, "Tell her to gather the Highlands and charge – it's time to draw them into a close-quarters battle."

The messenger nodded, and ran off.

"Wait," quizzed Jazz, "Did you knight Danny and his friends?"

Arthur simply shrugged.

* * *

"Come on, you stupid piece of..." muttered Mr. Stuart, still struggling with his jam.

"24th, retire!"

Stuart looked up as the opposing redcoats lowered their guns and turned around, marching back down the valley.

"Ha!" sneered Mr. Stuart, "Bunch of cowards! Men, prepare to..."

He froze.

A line of bearded men in leather armour and tartan, Sam Manson at their head, had passed through the redcoat lines. They were all clenching massive claymore swords and screaming bloody murder as they thundered towards their foe.

"...pursue," whimpered Mr. Stuart.

Mr. Stuart dropped his rifle and switched to his pistol, firing desperately at the wall of Highlanders barrelling towards him. In his frenzied state, he missed every shot – then the Highlanders crashed into them and Mr. Smith was thrown into the mud. A massive Highlander towered over him, sword readied.

Mr. Stuart reached into his jacket, pulling out a small dagger.

"I-I'm warning you!" he exclaimed, "I'm trained to use this..."

The Scotsman brought down his sword, smashing the blade of the dagger and the ribcage of the man holding the dagger.

"Yoo'd ne'er lest in th' highlands," he said, shaking his head before moving off to find someone else to fight.

* * *

The Lord Protector shook his head as he watched the riflemen start to break in the face of the Highland charge.

"Commit our melee reserve," he barked, "If it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get."

"Lord Protector."

King James strode up to the Lord Protector, clad in armour not dissimilar to a conquistador. A sword was in his hands.

"You understand that for the anti-magic..._ritual_ to take place," he snapped, his voice underlined in distaste, "The blood of a loyal Witchfinder-General must be spilt."

"I understand," nodded the Lord Protector, "I sent Mr. Stuart with the first wave; he'll be dead by now."

He turned to look over the battlefield.

"Rest assured, I know what I am – _aargh!_"

He looked down. James had stabbed him in the back.

"Aye, Lord Protector," nodded James, "But the sacrifice was _mine_ to make, not yours."

He kicked the Lord Protector off of the blade. The suited man fell lifelessly to the ground.

"_I_ will finish this war," he whispered, "Not you."

With that, he strode away to lead his forces.

* * *

"Darn it!" snapped Danny, looking through a telescope, "They've deployed their melee troops!"

He, Arthur, Tucker and the main portion of Arthur's army were standing at the bottom of the crag, ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Then the battle has truly begun," nodded Arthur, "Steel yourselves."

There was a long, tense silence.

Then came the cry.

"_CHAAAARGE!"_

* * *

The army of Avalon charged through the rain.

The force was massive and diverse – BEF infantrymen, WWII Tommies, redcoats, men-at-arms, pikemen, Celtic warriors – and it was determined. At its lead was King Arthur himself, backed up by several of his knights. Behind them, the cavalry force – knights, dragoons and the Light Brigade, all led by Sir Lancelot – thundered towards the enemy's flanks.

At the middle of the field, both it and the Witchfinder-Generals' main force met, joining the Highlanders and the remaining Witchfinder gunmen. The Second Battle of Camlann was now truly underway.

On the crag, Merlin and Athena worked their magic, turning the very lightening into a weapon with which to strike the enemy. This was countered by the faraway thunder of British Army artillery co-opted by the Witchfinders.

Amidst lightning and shellfire, King Arthur and King James approached each other.

"Witch!" snarled James, his sword raised.

"Stand down!" snapped Arthur, "We can end this peacefully!"

"No," growled James, "We can't."

He screeched and ran at Arthur, poised to strike...

* * *

_"This is Archer-Two-Five, we are inbound to the field, over."_

A flight of black Eurofighter Typhoon fighters thundered towards the battlefield, weapons primed and ready.

"_Christ, I can't see a thing in this rain,_" snapped one of the pilots.

_"If you can see the ground, there's no problem,"_ snapped the lead pilot, "_We're running an airstrike, not a dogfight."_

Suddenly, a giant red dragon burst out of the fog, headed straight for the cockpit of the lead fighter.

_"What in the f-"_

The dragon swiped at the cockpit of the fighter, crushing it and sending the plane into a nosedive. As it did, other dragons and some Spitfires followed him out of the clouds.

"Keep 'em busy, lads!" shouted Jones, diving towards a second jet.

* * *

Danny and Sam were in the middle of the melee, the former in his ghost form and the later packing a Fenton Bazooka.

Danny aimed an ectoblast at a Witchfinder and fired, knocking him off his feet and into the mud. He ran over to the downed man, lifting him up before punching him in the face and knocking him out.

Sam aimed her bazooka at a few more Witchfinders, who were trying to charge Danny while his back was turned. She pulled the trigger, and a massive blast knocked the group away like bowling pins.

"...are you trying to one-up me?" demanded Danny, eyebrow raised.

"No," replied Sam, grinning, "You just can't keep u-"

There was a thunderous roar, and she was knocked into the grass.

Slowly, she pulled herself up, her eyes blurred and ears ringing. She had been on the edge of an artillery explosion, and next to her was Danny, lying on the ground...

"Danny!" exclaimed Sam, limping over to him.

Danny was in bad shape, bleeding from a face wound and returning to human form. His breathing was laboured. Cringing, Sam began to press on his chest.

"Somebody get a medic!"

* * *

Jazz, Timmy, Spongebob and Jimmy looked over the battle. The melee was stalemated – dozens falling by the minute.

"In the legendary Battle of Camlann," remembered Jimmy, "Only seven people were supposed to have lived."

"That's not gonna happen this time, right?" quizzed Spongebob, hopefully.

There was a loud bang, and a burning Spitfire hurtled out of the sky, crashing into a mountainside in a ball of flame.

"At this rate, I doubt we'll even get seven," sighed Jazz.

"What's the point?"

The others looked at Timmy, who was simply staring at the battlefield.

"I mean, we're fighting over a sword and a stupid ritual," added Timmy, "Do we even know it'll work? And if it did, why did Arthur come here and give them a chance to do it?"

"Judgement Day and the Return – they're prophecies, they have to come to pass..." began Jazz.

"Why?!" demanded Timmy, "Who said prophecies had to come true? Why do we have to follow them? Why can't we just _stop?"_

No-one replied.

"Arthur could have stopped all this," said Timmy, "He could've stayed on Avalon – then they wouldn't be able to get his sword and none of this would've happened. So why did he come back?"

"Because he's too proud," realised Jimmy, "He's a knight – he can't back down from a challenge like this."

He shook his head.

"He's just as much to blame as the Witchfinders are."

* * *

Arthur and James stood in the middle of the valley, surrounded by piles of dead and a few stragglers still fighting. Both men were bloodied (although it was less noticeable on the decayed James) and covered in mud – both had grave wounds.

"...for goodness sakes," grunted James, clutching his side, "Just give up – give me the damn sword!"

"Never," growled Arthur, "Excalibur is not yours."

"Then why'd you bring it here?" demanded James.

"Because I am a Knight of the Round Table," snarled Arthur, "And your 'Judgement Day' plan is my challenge."

"Then I will kill you where you stand," vowed James.

He lunged at Arthur again, who just barely managed to parry.

* * *

The battle had slowed to a halt.

Jazz, Timmy, Jimmy, Spongebob, Sandy and Dani were now walking onto the valley – the remaining men of both the Witchfinders and Avalon had simply stopped fighting in exhaustion. A BEF soldier was laying on the ground, his eyes closed, just letting the rain wash over him. All was quiet – Merlin and Athena had totally exhausted themselves, and the British artillery had run out of shells.

Not far from where the monarchs were fighting, Danny was laid out next to a shell crater, being tended to by Sam, Tucker and a medic. The group made their way over to him.

"What the heck's going on?" asked Sandy.

"We just gave up," replied Tucker, solemnly, "This is between Arthur and King James – we're just trying to work out who's still alive."

There was a loud cry – Arthur had been slashed across the face, but he quickly rebounded and launched a series of slashing attacks against James, who managed to parry them all.

"When is this gonna end?" groaned Danny.

* * *

"_Avatar-One, Avatar-One, I have eyes on the bandit, firing!"_

The fighter soared out of the clouds, its missiles locking onto the target. With a roar, they were launched – both scored direct hits, and the fighter's enemy began to dive.

"_Command, this is Avatar-One, bogie is down, I sa-"_

A burst of 20mm cannonfire struck the fighter's engine, and it blown to pieces.

* * *

Arthur fell onto his back but managed to deflect James' following stab. Rolling over, he attempted to climb to his feet, but a deep pain in his chest prevented him.

James grinned, and held his sword over Arthur's back.

"It's all over, _your majesty_."

"Incoming! Get down?"

James looked up. Something massive was falling towards him. Quickly, he darted to the side, and Arthur rolled out of the way. With a loud crash, it hit the ground.

"No..." whispered Danny.

It was a massive red dragon – and it was clearly dying.

"Jones, no," pleaded Danny, climbing to his feet and limping over to him, "No, you can't be dead, you just got outta that mine, you can't..."

"Danny," whispered Jones, hoarsely.

Danny stopped, letting the dragon speak.

"I know I said it before, but..._thank you."_

He closed his eyes and was still.

"No...no, no, no, Jones, no..._Jones!"_ shouted Danny, hugging Jones' head before bursting into tears.

Arthur looked at Excalibur as James made his way around the corpse.

"For god's sake," snarled James, "Give me the sword. Enough people have died today."

Arthur turned to the group mourning Jones, and then to soldiers, both his and James', standing around and watching. In his head, something clicked.

"Britain wasn't in peril," he realised, "Until _I _returned."

He sighed.

"Perhaps King Arthur isn't needed anymore."

He raised his sword – and swung it at a rock.

It shattered.

There was a soft glow of light, illuminating both James and Arthur.

"What is this sorcery?" demanded James.

"I have decided it is time to pass on," replied Arthur, serenely, "And I'm taking _you_ with me."

James began to scream as his body ignited, burning him to a cinder in seconds. His ashes were swept away by the wind, and the same began to happen to Arthur.

"Find Merlin," he called over the fire, "Tell him – tell not to grieve, for both Britannia and magic shall go on..."

Then his ashes were scattered by the wind, and the glow suddenly flashed like a giant flash-bang...

* * *

"I'm _really_ sorry about this," said the policeman, "We should've noticed a dungeon under bleeding _Thames House_ – reckon a lot of careers are gonna end over this and bleeding hell it's a house."

Jack and Maddie were being escorted out of Thames House by a policeman (acting under an anonymous tip that a 'secret organization' was using it as a base), and had just found a house landed in the middle of the street.

The door opened, and Dr. Insano strolled out.

"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "I have saved these children!"

"No you didn't," snapped Timmy, following him out, "You just sat here and then flew us to this random part of London after we got teleported back after the battle."

"Shh," hissed Insano.

"...rightio," nodded the policeman.

"Mom! Dad!" exclaimed Jazz, running out the house.

"Jazzypants!" yelled Jack, glomping his daughter.

"My apologies," said Athena, filing out of the house with the rest of the group, "We...were kidnapped by the same people you were. I should have provided better..."

"It's alright," replied Maddie, kindly, "We understand."

"Well, this is a nice reunion," nodded Sandy, "Just one problem – what in tarnation just happened?!"

"Arthur decided to die," replied Athena, just quietly enough so that the Fentons wouldn't hear, "Shattering Excalibur was symbolic of that. He used Excalibur's magic to drag James' soul with him. Once he was gone, all the participants of the battle were sent home."

"Does that include..."

She was interrupted by a massive dragon roaring over their heads – the unmistakeable figure of Danny Phantom riding on his back. With a roar and a few cheers from the ghost, they flew off into the distance and out of sight.

_"Jesus H. Christ!_" exclaimed the policeman.

"It's Phantom!" snapped Jack, "After him!"

He and Maddie ran off down the street in the direction the dragon had gone.

"Status quo ante bellum," sighed Jimmy, rolling his eyes.

"Anti-what?" quizzed Timmy.

"Come on," chuckled Athena, "It's a whole new day – it's time to grasp it."

The group returned to the _Exit Strategy_ and it took off, flying into the sunny evening sky...

* * *

The two men sat on a chair in on the platform of a Welsh railway station – a place called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerych wyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogo ch, named in an old Victorian publicity stunt.

Merlin sighed, leaning back on the chair.

"So," he said, "The future beckons, I suppose."

The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder and grinned.

"That is does, old friend," he agreed, "That it does."

* * *

I clicked save and leant back.

"Well, that's us done for another year," I said, "And might I add that this is the first year where I haven't destroyed all life on Earth. Gimme five!"

I raised my arm – nobody gave me five.

"Well, as you can see, I cut the old 'recap lines from the month' thing, mainly due to a lack of ideas," I admitted, "But I ain't gonna cut out the other tradition! Let's end this month on a high-note and make Billy Joel cry!"

And with that, the music stared again.

ME: Fanfiction, Writing Guide,

JAZZ: Aliens and Magic Time,

AJ: UFOs, Insano,

VLAD: People on a boat,

DANNY: Dragons and collectors,

VALERIE: Badfic and purpose,

SANDY: World Wide Web, shipwrecks,

ATHENA: And the customs office!

ALL (yes, that includes you): _We didn't start October,  
It's some science glee,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

CHESTER: Aliens and writing,

DANI: End of humanity,

TUCKER: Power Rangers, armed strangers,

TIMMY: Magic 101,

TOMMY: Massacre and miracle,

EMBER: Cons in airships spherical,

SAM: Nazis, dA,

JACK: Witchfinders ain't okay,

SPONGEBOB: Robots, Judgement Day,

JIMMY: Everybody run away,

ARTHUR: Excalibur, British Wars,

INSANO: Camlann and Judgement Day!

ALL: _We didn't start October,  
It's some science glee,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

ALL: _We didn't start October,  
It's some science glee,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

"Well, everyone, Happy Halloween and good night!" I exclaimed, "Now, one more time!"

ALL: _We didn't start October,  
It's some science glee,  
And we don't have degrees,  
We didn't start October,  
But one thing can be told,  
Because it's all E3's fault._

* * *

FINAL STATISTICS:

31 Chapters.

120 Pages.

1,406 Hits.

7 Faves.

5 Alerts.

35,373 Words.

171,970 Characters (without spaces).

Approx. 100 Hours of Work.

One Exhausted Author.

* * *

Fun fact: half of this came from me having a sudden bit of fridge logic and deciding to incorporate it into the plot.


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